God help me, he thought. God help all us poor wretches who could create and find we must lose our hearts for it because we cannot afford to spend our time at it. (“Mad House”)

Because there was only one thing worse than dying. And that was knowing you were going to die. And where. And how. (“Death Ship”)

Quiet is here and all in me. ("Dress of White Silk")

God, how impossible life is without money. Nothing can ever overcome it, it's everything when it's anything. How can I write in peace with endless worries of money, money, money? (“Disappearing Act”)

I love you Abang, so what? That is a human right. The fact that you do not love me, it is also human right. Abang ngga salah, tapi aku juga ngga salah, kan?

You put butterflies back into my soul and painted their wings with passion and poetry.

Spirituality does not have to be serious. You are spirituality. Fun laughter heal you faster than anything. Introduce fun back into your life.

Coming back to theatre is something I'm keen to do for the rest of my life. It recharges my batteries, so to speak.

Never expect what you write to be any good, 'cause it's the fear of writing badly that stops you from finding the right words.

You are a miracle, and everything you touch could be a miracle.

If there's something wrong, speak up!

O love, where are you leading me now?

One impulse of photography, as immediate as its impulse to extend the visible, is to theatricalize its subjects. The photographer's command, Watch the birdie! is essentially a stage direction.

Something deep in all of us yearns for God's beauty, and we can find it no matter where we are.