A book is a version of the world. If you do not like it, ignore it; or offer your own version in return.
Sometimes when you finish a book, you don't know quite what you've got.
Five mysteries hold the keys to the unseen: the act of love, and the birth of a baby, and the contemplation of great art, and being in the presence of death or disaster, and hearing the human voice lifted in song.
We crave permission openly to become our secret selves.
Is birth always a fall?
I get a lot of letters - a lot of letters saying, who knew that you were funny?