My wife is my in-home editor and reads everything I write.

Attention shifted to him like sunflowers turning to the sun.

hills that stand soft and a sky that stands high and blue, and the sun setting behind a windmill, and always, always, hazy strings of mountains that fall and fall away on the horizon.

One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs, Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.

And that's the thing about people who mean everything they say. They think everyone else does too.

A man who has no conscience, no goodness, does not suffer.

Nothing good came free. Even love. You paid for all things. And if you were poor, suffering was your currency.

But time, it is like charm. You never have as much as you think.

The desert weed lives on, but the flower of spring blooms and wilts.

I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded; not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.

Quiet is peace. Tranquility. Quiet is turning down the volume knob on life. Silence is pushing the off button. Shutting it down. All of it.

It seems to me that they only seem to mention things in the Bible that are within a 5 mile radius of the guy writing it.

It felt as if things were literally slipping through my fingers. Things were just streaming away from me. I lost my sense of humor. I'm still looking for that.

I'm a venture capitalist. I like to say my job is to help and support entrepreneurs. I can play a leadership role, but my organization can't be the leader.

My goal is to be able to play wherever my team needs me.

It's true that climate change is an unprecedented problem so it's not surprising that it's so difficult to address.

Life's a lottery, and man should make up his mind to the blanks.

When we hang the capitalists they will sell us the rope we use.

I was tired of working in an office and I wanted to make a living telling stories. There are not many people who find a way to do this.

In order to rise From its own ashes A phoenix First Must Burn.

Like cats' eyes gleaming in the gloom, the precious diamonds rest.