Receiving love is not about our egos at all. It’s deep nurturance, a humble opening of the heart.
I wonder if love wants to be born through even my fear, that fear can crack me open if I choose rather than shut me down.
Love is literature’s essential ingredient. If we writers can center ourselves in our love—for the subject matter, for the writing process, for the language, for the readers—then we’ve got it made.
Perhaps we writers love to write because we love loving, and we intuit that writing exercises this capacity.