Someone is getting excited. Somebody somewhere is shaking with excitement because something tremendous is about to happen to this person. This person has dressed for the occasion. This person has hoped and dreamed and now it is really happening and this person can hardly believe it. But believing is not an issue here, the time for faith and fantasy is over, it is really really happening. It involves stepping forward and bowing. Possibly there is some kneeling, such as when one is knighted. One is almost never knighted. But this person may kneel and receive a tap on each shoulder with a sword. Or, more likely, this person will be in a car or a store or under a vinyl canopy when it happens. Or online or on the phone. It could be an e-mail re: your knighthood. Or a long, laughing, rambling phone message in which every person this person has ever known is talking on a speakerphone and they are all saying, You have passed the test, it was all just a test, we were only kidding, real life is so much better than that. This person is laughing out loud with relief and playing the message back to get the address of the place where every person this person has ever known is waiting to hug this person and bring her into the fold of life. It is really exciting, and it’s not just a dream, it’s real.

No one belongs here more than you. by Miranda July.

I had come barefoot, collecting dew on the soles of my feet. Sitting on the toilet, trying to pee very quietly, I could see crepe myrtle petals stuck to my toes. Over my head, Rosaleen’s snores sifted through the ceiling. It is always a relief to empty your bladder. Better than sex, that’s what Rosaleen said. As good as it felt, though, I sincerely hoped she was wrong.

The Secret Life of Bees: Sue Monk Kidd
That book had so much truth that got inside of me. So much pain and so much reality and so much with which I could completely identify that sometimes I had to take it all in pieces. And there were so many fabulous passages that got so very soul-deep, but this is the passage I always think of when I think of that book experience. The genius of it all.

In what feels like a crawl space, scared of unseen spiders, pulling himself along on his elbows, the skin rubbed raw, not knowing for sure whether he will ever arrive at a place where he can stand up again in the daylight. This is what it feels like to grieve a loss that is just too big, the loss of a loved one, or of one’s childhood, or whatever.

Operating Instructions: Anne Lamott
I know she’s fabulous, but I’ve only read parts of this book and none others. When I find an author I adore reading, I try to make my way slowly through their work, hoping as I finish the last, they’ll come out with more. And if that author is dead, I may take my lifetime digesting their words.

I could post all kinds of words that turn into art when Maya Angelou says or writes them—but I don’t have any books with me. Suffice it to say that I kind of want to marry her sometimes. As a friend.

What books, authors, words get inside you?