Each day, an appointment with silence.

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Begin is the hinge between the impossible and the possible.

 

Be the Eric Snowdon of your inner life.

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The most important literature of our time is the not-yet-written.

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Plunder your reticence.

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As each day falls away, your writing gathers an archive of the interior life.

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Only by returning to zero--the blank page--can a writer savor the luxury of first thought.

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Writing with others, I hear each voice matter.

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My remedy for myriad troubles: cook up a feast of words, and see what I learn.

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Like a bird lifting from a twig, a writer steps away from all accouterments. Even as I plod the road, my soul is in flight.

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We have not arrived to explain, but to sing.

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The well-lit problem begins to heal.

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While you keep working on the life, try to get the story right.

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Spend kind words--the coins of happiness--or hoard them, endowment of sorrow.

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Sometimes right action is no action...then writing...then clear thought...then right action.

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What is my function in a dysfunctional community: Say what is.

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Songbird guards a twig, it's only weapon a song.

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Freedom has this magic disappearing act--you look, and look, and all the time it's right there. 

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Writing works when it's not about ideas or even words, but becomes a river that plucks ideas and words from the bank as it flows along.

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