He told me that when we first met, he had said to a friend about me: “If I get that girl’s number I will never ask another girl for her number again.

I told him I had once lost everything I had, too, and that I think that can be God’s way of building walls around us to force us to look up at Him.

And so I just kept writing to myself.

Unfortunately, he still hadn’t asked for my number, or a date, or my hand in marriage, and my drink was getting low.

I didn’t answer. We were not buddies. We could not chat about the proximity of our offices, or football, or forgiveness.

The voice sang on, “I am ready, I am ready, I am fine. I am fine, I am fine, I am fine.” I played it again. I was not fine.

Each guy stamped the passport of my heart. “You’re worthy.” Stamp. “You’re enough.” “You have not failed completely.” Stamp, stamp.

I remembered learning from my favorite professor at Belmont to “surround yourself with people who are better than you, ” and I was now living that mantra.

I used to cover my windows in heavy curtains, never drawn. Now I danced in the sunlight on my hardwood floors.

That’s how it felt – that the loss of him had a life of its own. I lived with it as I could have lived with him. Some nights it was quiet and sometimes it pounded on my door.

But I tended not to date men who ever showed up for me.

One way poetry connects is across time. . . . Some echo of a writer's physical experience comes into us when we read her poem.

The heart is the key conduit to everything.

The word indulgent has become a popular catchphrase for dishes we should not eat for health's sake. I never use it to describe food, only poor parenting.

After you've done a thing the same way for two years look it over carefully. After five years look at it with suspicion. And after ten years throw it away and start all over.

Writing isn’t a career choice. It’s self-medication that over time precipitates the madness it was meant to ward off.

The sins I regret the most are the one's I didn't commit.

Oh, there you are, Albus,' he said. 'You've been a very long time. Upset stomach?' 'No, I was merely reading the Muggle magazines,' said Dumbledore. 'I do love knitting patterns.

What is the difference between a celebrity and a not so celebrity? It's probably just one film.

People have always told me, 'Yo, you're too unselfish. Shoot more.'

The man who is deserving the name is the one whose thoughts and exertions are for others rather than for himself.