At some point in life the world's beauty becomes enough. You don't need to photograph, paint or even remember it. It is enough.

You need a whole community to raise a child. I have raised two children, alone.

To get to a place where you could love anything you chose--not to need permission for desire--well now _that_ was freedom.

Not knowing it was hard; knowing it was harder

Each member of the family in his own cell of consciousness, each making his own patchwork quilt of reality - collecting fragments of experience here, pieces of information there. From the tiny impressions gleaned from one another, they created a sense of belonging and tried to make do with the way they found each other.

Your life is already artful-waiting, just waiting, for you to make it art.

Wait, wait, wait, wait. Don't try to write through it, to force it. Many do, but that won't work. Just wait, it will come.