In short, everything about his life was different for him at the bottom of that well.

there isn't enough of anything as long as we live. But at intervals a sweetness appears and, given a chance prevails.

Life and death matters, yes. And the question of how to behave in this world, how to go in the face of everything. Time is short and the water is rising.

That's all we have, finally, the words, and they had better be the right ones.

Write about what you know, and what do you know better than your own secrets?

And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.

I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone's heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.

It ought to make us feel ashamed when we talk like we know what we're talking about when we talk about love.

The places where water comes together with other water. Those places stand out in my mind like holy places.

Dreams, you know, are what you wake up from.

But I can hardly sit still. I keep fidgeting, crossing one leg and then the other. I feel like I could throw off sparks, or break a window--maybe rearrange all the furniture.

Follow your heart, , , Go wherever it takes you and Whatever it takes.

If you intend to speak a vain word, replace it with a tasbih.

Each year one vicious habit discarded, in time might make the worst of us good.

The 'frankness' of people sunk below shame is a very cheap frankness.

The US government is not going to be able to cover this up by jailing or murdering me. Truth is coming, and it cannot be stopped.

I sing a bit and play guitar.

Libraries should be open to all - except the censor.

A church is not a church when the passion for souls is gone.

So far as we know, all the fundamental laws of physics, like Newton's equations, are reversible.

He that dies this year is quit for the next.