And believe me, a good piece of chicken can make anybody believe in the existence of God.

In the middle of a crazy and drunk life, you have to hang onto the good and sober moments tightly.

Is God a man or a woman? God could be an armadillo. I have no idea.

Estranged from the tribe that gives no protection, What happens to the soul that hates its reflection?

He loved her, of course, but better than that, he chose her, day after day. Choice: that was the thing.

Everybody likes to have a place to think, to meditate, to eat a burrito.

I grew up in a storytelling culture, a tribal culture, but also in an American storytelling culture.