Do what intrigues you, explore what interests you; think mystery, not mastery.

Growth is an erratic forward movement: two steps forward, one step back. Remember that and be very gentle with yourself.

What we really want to do is what we are really meant to do. When we do what we are meant to do, money comes to us, doors open for us, we feel useful, and the work we do feels like play to us.

The voice of our original self is often muffled, overwhelmed, even strangled, by the voices of other people’s expectations.

I have learned, as a rule of thumb, never to ask whether you can do something. Say, instead, that you are doing it. Then fasten your seat belt. The most remarkable things follow.

Perfectionism is not a quest for the best. It is a pursuit of the worst in ourselves, the part that tells us that nothing we do will ever be good enough - that we should try again.

It takes constant vigilance not to slip into negativity or simple apathy. It takes courage to believe over any given period of time that we are getting better and not sliding into decline.

As you move toward a dream, the dream moves toward you.

Creativity requires faith. Faith requires that we relinquish control.

If we lean into what we love instead of soldiering toward what we 'should,' our pace quickens, our energy rises, optimism sets in. What we love is nutritious for us.

What we focus on, we empower and enlarge. Good multiplies when focused upon. Negativity multiplies when focused upon. The choice is ours: Which do we want more of?

I hate to lend a book I love…it never seems quite the same when it comes back to me…

A lot of what gets on the radio isn't saying anything other than somebody wants to be famous and will do whatever they're told to get it.

Good night, and good luck.

That strategy of racing for the top five and racing for the win is where everybody wants to be.

It is the duty of all nations to acknowledge the providence of Almighty God.

Everyone at some point in their lives feels excluded and misunderstood.

Youth, what man's age is like to be, doth show; We may our ends by our beginnings know.

Large flocks of butterflies, all kinds of happy insects, seem to be in a perfect fever of joy and sportive gladness.

I have to feel what I'm writing, right down to the core.

What is this universe but name and form?