There's death and life, you see. We all shine on. A leaf, a star, a song, a laugh. Notice the little things, because somebody is reaching out to you. ...Somebody loves you.

...the enduring human need to be remembered.

He. Does there have to be a he? It seems weak and unoriginal doesn’t it, for stories told by girls to always have a he?

He hesitated for a moment. Then he said softly, "I love you, Mother." He took my hand and kissed it, and folded my fingers round the stem of the rose. He had stripped it of its thorns.

During those formative times, I really didn't know what was going on, and I was sort of torn in a thousand different directions with how I felt about what I was doing.

Re-writing is different from writing. Original writing is very difficult.

Mother's love always peace as it not to be acquired nor deserved.

Maybe the universe will get tired of me.

You are unhappy because you believe in such a thing as happy.

Art should be a place of hope.

Waking up from a dream of violence is much the same as waking up from a dream of love. You must go on living your life.

It hurts not the tongue to give fair words.