What more could I want other than to be interested and surprised and satisfied, to express in the world – if only on a page – what I knew first in the private theater of my imagination.

There’s something about my life away from the desk, with mortgages and groceries and medical bills, that seems forever tied to the uncreative business of mere survival.

The actors in Chariots of Fire really did know how to run, but that’s not why I liked that movie.

You’re confronted with this page, and are limited to bare, still, silent sentences, and there is no audience, except the one in your mind.

Shame prevents learning, believing as it does in ceaseless and impossible perfection.

Pleasure will always come when we forget.

I always get to choose which experience I’ll have, just like I get to choose which story I’m going to tell.

I know it’s not always easy to admit you feel special.

When the relief comes, my first thought is usually, “Never make the mistake of doubting yourself again!”

Isn’t anticipating the gift as much fun sometimes as getting it?

I’ve doubted plenty, and in my experience, it’s anything but a passive activity.

Adults, unfortunately, have a habit of picturing what’s possible and not what they want.

It’s fine to start on the surface, but there is no relief to be found until you go deeper.

When a puzzle is easy, you solve it without thinking, without doubting, without staring at it and wondering if there even is an answer.

The writer in me was reminded again that nobody owed me their attention.

I have always been biased toward happiness, creativity, and enthusiasm.

The problem with pursuing something all the time is that you never really have it.