I tell you, families are definitely the training ground for forgiveness.

The road to enlightenment is long and difficult, and you should try not to forget snacks and magazines.

...most of the time, all you have is the moment, and the imperfect love of the people around you.

The depth of the feeling continued to surprise and threaten me, but each time it hit again and I bore it...I would discover that it hadn't washed me away.

Then the singing enveloped me. It was furry and resonant, coming from everyone's very heart. There was no sense of performance or judgment, only that the music was breath and food.

Mine was a patchwork God, sewn together from bits of rag and ribbon, Eastern and Western, pagan and Hebrew, everything but the kitchen sink and Jesus.

The clipping said forgiveness meant that God is for giving, and that we are here for giving too, and that to withold love or blessings is to be completely delusional.

And I guess when you take away the resentment and disappointment, it's that simple. It is what we do in families: we help, because we were helped.

I'll live as well, as deeply, as madly as I can--until I die.

I watched him carefully. He was making art because he has to, and because he's brave enough to try and make contact, right there on the edge of madness, where he dreams.

Not forgiving is like drinking rat poison and then waiting for the rat to die.

We must not only observe but listen to the sound of nature.

I love you like the plant that does not bloomand carries in itself, hidden, the light of those flowers,

Breathe a word of prayer, not anger.

The best performances, are those that can be performed once.

Nothing but what astonishes is true.

For me, a muse is someone who looks glamorous but is quite passive, whereas I was very hard-working. I worked from 9am to sometimes 9pm, or even 2am. I certainly wasn't passive

I think a major act of leadership right now, call it a radical act, is to create the places and processes so people can actually learn together, using our experiences

Nearly all black and brown skins are beautiful, but a beautiful white skin is rare.

I am not sure I trust you." "You can trust me with your life, My King." "But not with my wine, obviously. Give it back.

There are only two kinds of Wodehouse readers, those who adore him and those who have never read him.