Around you move many seas. It is impossible not to drown a little.

My existence shrank from an arrow of light pointing into the future forever to a speck of light that was the present moment. I got better at living in that point of light, making the world into that point. I paid close attention to it. I loved it very much.

I like people who possess either deep mastery or deep empathy, but not as much as I like those who possess both.

Experience in itself wasn’t enough. The diary was my defense against waking up at the end of my life and realizing I’d missed it.

Those who claim to write about something larger and more significant than the self sometimes fail to comprehend the dimensions of self.

Perhaps all anxiety might derive from a fixation on moments - an inability to accept life as ongoing.

I see no reason not to write whatever comes to me.