The storm before the calm.

The words he said, too, must be human enough to bleed.

A poet could kill the dead.

Poets, like fighters, both reap the benefits of roadwork.

I’ve learned to fall like the BJJ player, to protect the body through controlling the distribution of force by slapping the mat with hands open. With hands open. Hands open. Open. O Pen.

Stories do not change, only the lives they live in do.

Like forearm veins, my interests spread in different directions and eventually led to the hands, to writing.

If pain is a pot of boiling water, humor can be the rising steam.

It’s cool when fashion recycles itself, it’s not cool when sustainable living does because it means there was (and is as I write) a period of absolute and possibly irreversible destruction.

Fights begin and end with handshakes.

How can I stand before you in silent symbols with open palms?

Under the whole "personal is political" motto of feminism, I feel that personal kindness, treating people decently, is political-is punk.

To be civilized, really, is to be aware of the others, their hopes, their gladnesses, their illusions about life.

the garbage cans and mailboxes on the sidewalk would stay the same, but the people would be just a beautiful blur of motion.

Trust me when I say: Your commitment to love is crucial in the awakening of the world.

Whether one has natural talent or not, any learning period requires the willingness to suffer uncertainty and embarrassment.

Humanity connected is God.

Egotism is true modesty. In religious enquiry each of us can speak only for himself.

One man's uplift is another man's sentimental hooey.

I am a recovering alcoholic.

Energy deregulation will be the largest transfer of wealth in history.