“No one ever gets talker's block. No one wakes up in the morning, discovers he has nothing to say and sits quietly, for days or weeks, until the muse hits, until the moment is right, until all the craziness in his life has died down. Why then, is writer's block endemic? The reason we don't get talker…”— Seth Godin, sethgodin.typepad.com
“I have my freedom today because nothing really happened and nobody came to see me, only the slow growing of the garden in the summer heat and the silence of that unborn life making itself known at my desk my hands still dark with the crumbling soil as I write and watch the first lines of a new poem…”— David Whyte, amazon.com
“My mother died fast but not all of a sudden. A slow-burning fire when flames disappear to smoke and then smoke to air. She never once closed her eyes. First they were bitter and then they were bewildered and then they changed again to something else, to a state that I have had, finally, to see as he…”— Cheryl Strayed, junklit.com
“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.”— Kait Rokowski, goodreads.com
“Healing is a small and ordinary and very burnt thing. And it’s one thing and one thing only: it’s doing what you have to do. It’s what I did then and there. I stood up and got into my truck and drove away from a part of my mother. The part of her that had been my lover, my wife, my first love, my tr…”— Cheryl Strayed, thesunmagazine.org