I Do Not Need To Love You

A Lot Of [erotica] Was Really Interestingly Disguised In The 19th-century As Medical Journals. So It Would Be In The Voice Of A Learned Doctor Talking About Somebody's Pathologies. And Then It Would Get Really Detailed. And Then It Would Get Really Sweaty. And Then You're Like, "this Isn't A Doctor! I Would Like To See A Degree, Mister!"

The World Is Like A Dropped Pie Most Of The Time. Don't Kill Yourself Trying To Put It Back Together. Just Grab A Fork And Eat Some Of It Off The Floor. Then Carry On.

That's Your Friend. My Husband Is My Best Friend. He's Not The Mirror That Holds Up My Flaws. He's Just The Guy Who's Like, 'i Think You're Terrific'... It's Just Simple, Showing Up For Each Other.

Don't Be Daunted. Just Do Your Job. Continue To Show Up For Your Piece Of It, Whatever That Might Be. If Your Job Is To Dance, Do Your Dance. If The Divine, Cockeyed Genius Assigned To Your Case Decides To Let Some Sort Of Wonderment Be Glimpsed, For Just One Moment Through Your Efforts, Then 'ole!' And If Not, Do Your Dance Anyhow. And 'ole!' To You, Nonetheless. I Believe This And I Feel That We Must Teach It. 'ole!' To You, Nonetheless, Just For Having The Sheer Human Love And Stubbornness To Keep Showing Up.

I Had A Great Teacher In India Who Said To Me, 'if You Think You're Spiritual And Evolved And Enlightened, Go Home For Christmas.'