I see millions and millions of people convinced that they're communicating with the Cosmos and thus saving the human race. Each time it fails, as it always will, they lose a little bit of hope. The next new book or seminar restores their faith, but after a few weeks they forget what they learned, and hope drains away.
He's been sent by the devil to destabilize something that was already fragile. How could I fall in love so quickly with someone I don't even know?
I write from my soul. This is the reason that critics don't hurt me, because it is me. If it was not me, if I was pretending to be someone else, then this could unbalance my world, but I know who I am.
It isn't explanations that carry us forward, it's our desire to go on.
There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve: the fear of faliure.
She would consider each day a miracle—which indeed it is, when you consider the number of unexpected things that could happen in each second of our fragile existences.