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.

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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.

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

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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.

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

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Pleasure will always come when we forget.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Fortunately, there is something in me that’s in everyone.

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