Read Books. They Are Good For Us.

While I Had Cancer, I Wrote These Twenty-two Personal Essays About How I Lived My Life Backed By Zen And Writing.

You Don't Need To Go To A Therapist, You Don't Need To Do All Kinds Of Things. If You Want To Write, You Physically Have To Do It.

To Encounter A Fine Book And Have Time To Read It Is A Wonderful Thing.

It's Okay To Embark On Writing Because You Think It Will Get You Love. At Least It Gets You Going, But It Doesn't Last. After A While You Realize That No One Cares That Much. Then You Find Another Reason: Money. You Can Dream On That One While The Bills Pile Up. Then You Think: "well, I'm The Sensitive Type. I Have To Express Myself." Do Me A Favor. Don't Be So Sensitive. Be Tough. It Will Get You Further Along When You Get Rejected. Finally, You Just Do It Because You Happen To Like It.

I Wonder If I Don't Give Too Much Of Myself To Writing: I Am Always Half Where I Am; The Other Half Is Feeding The Furnace, Kick-starting The Heat Of Creativity. I Am Making Love With Someone But At The Same Time I'm Noticing How This Graceful Hand Across My Belly Might Just Fit In With The Memory Of Lilacs In Albuquerque In 1974.