Gazing into the mirror, I saw myself as I was-a black silhouette in the room, a woman whose darkness had completely leaked through.

Make the world better. Take the meanness out of people's hearts.

I could even feel how perishable all my moments really were, how all my life they had come to me begging to be lived, to be cherished even.

I didn't know then what I wanted, but the ache for it was palpable.

I wondered what it was like to be inside her, just a curl of flesh swimming in the darkness, the quiet things that had passed between us.

It's easy to operate under the illusion that what we are doing is so important we cannot stop doing it. ... Stopping is a spiritual act. It is the refuge where we drink life in.

When compassion wakes up in us, we find ourselves more willing to become vulnerable, to take the risk of entering the pain of others.