It was so quiet, a reservation kind of quiet, where you can hear somebody drinking whiskey on the rocks three miles away.

The ordinary can be like medicine.

He looked into the crowd for approval, saw his mother and father. He waved and they waved back. Smiles and Indian teeth. They were both drunk. Everything familiar and welcome. Everything beautiful.

Summer coming like a car from down the highway.

Seems like the cold would never go away and winter would be like the bottom of my feet but then it is gone in one night and in its place comes the sun so large and laughable.

The white people always want to fight someone and they always get the dark-skinned people to do the fighting.

How much do we remember of what hurts us most? I've been thinking about pain, how each of us constructs our past to justify what we feel now. How each successive pain distorts the preceding.

More and more, he heard his spine playing stick games through his skin, singing old dusty words, the words of all his years.

The beauty of artifacts is in how they reassure us we’renot the first to die.

The light of other days is faded, And all their glories past.

I abhor nothing more than bumping into someone I know on the Tube.

The healing of the world is in its nameless saints. Each separate star seems nothing, but a myriad scattered stars break up the night and make it beautiful.

Oh Diamond! Diamond! thou little knowest the mischief done! [Apocryphal]

We are born for love, but it will die if not nurtured.

This is what you get, Maura, for using your DNA to make a baby.

Artists, no matter how good their intentions, are always slower than they think.

To gain unshakable faith in Jesus Christ is to flood your life with brilliant light.

I was thinking that women should put pictures of missing husbands on beer cans.