The road is a strange place. Shuffling along, I looked up and you were there walking across the grass toward my truck on an August day. In retrospect, it seems inevitable - it could not have been any other way-- a case of what I call the high probability of the improbable

The human heart has a way of making itself large again even after it's been broken into a million pieces.

And I remember most of what I know that is good and true and lasting has come not from scholars but from minstrels and gypsies.

This kind of certainty comes but just once in a lifetime!

In a universe of ambiguity, this kind of certainty comes only once, and never again, no matter how many lifetimes you live.

When a woman makes the choice to marry, to have children; in one way her life begins but in another way it stops. You build a life of details. You become a mother, a wife and you stop and stay steady so that your children can move. And when they leave they take your life of details with them. And then you're expected move again only you don't remember what moves you because no-one has asked in so long. Not even yourself.

I am the highway and a peregrine and all the sails that ever went to sea