I am glad to see the wheels are moving at last toward comprehensive immigration reform after last year's election. I am glad that immigrants are speaking up.

America's story is largely an immigrant story. That hasn't changed since the Pilgrims ate their first turkey some four hundred years ago, and they were the original boat people.

Today, more people are crossing various borders in order to survive, thrive, change their lives. Even if you don't cross the border, with demographic shifts, the border sometimes crosses you.

I think in a larger sense, immigrant narrative is comprehensive and speaks to the core of human experience.

Art is the lesser sister to medicine. It aims to heal.

In the war on terrorism, the immigrant is often the scapegoat.

That experience of losing home, longing for home, that yearning for meaning and rootedness and identity in a floating world, it's what often makes an immigrant story into an American story .

Precious things lost are transmutable. They refuse oblivion. They simply wait to be rendered into testimonies, into stories and songs.

It's unfortunate that the country of immigrants has turned its back on immigrants. The atmosphere after 9/11 is toxic.

In non-fiction you have to stay true to historical events, be they personal or national .

I am hopeful that the pendulum swings toward seeing immigrants in favorable terms once more.

I jumped into a crowd full of "u"s they turned into underscores. Hit the pavement hard.” visualization words

I have tried to be righteous all my life. Yet I have never been content.

I'll smoke, I'll cough, I'll get the tumors, I'll die, deal? Thank you America. [salutes]

She had been married so often she bought a drip-dry wedding dress.

I'm not the best actor I can be, so I'm just working on it. I'm not the quickest reader in the world but when I get an acting book I can read it in two days.

I think The Sunset Tree is really the album on which I really learned to trust other musicians, which is so important.

Take a one way trip down to Larry Land!

Your life at this exact moment is a direct result of choices you made once upon a time. Thirty minutes or 30 year ago.

We are the people that we have been waiting for and no one else is coming.

The slaves of custom and established mode, With pack-horse constancy we keep the road Crooked or straight, through quags or thorny dells, True to the jingling of our leader's bells.