We are wearing coats of trust. When one tells a story this is what happens.

...if we allow ourselves contemplative time in nature-whether it's gardening, going for a walk with the dog, or being in the heart of the southern Utah wilderness-then we can hear the voice of our conscience. If we listen to that voice, it asks us to be conscious. And if we become conscious we choose to live lives of consequence.

I think I must be worried all the time - maybe that is the other side of joy, you know, holding that line of the full range of emotions.

Beauty is transformed over time, and not without destruction.

This is the sorcery of literature. We are healed by our stories.

The moment Eve bit into the apple, her eyes opened and she became free. She exposed the truth of what every woman knows: to find our sovereign voice often requires a betrayal.

Blind obedience in the name of patriotism or religion ultimately takes our lives.