“Do you love your idea? Does it feel right on instinct? Are you willing to bleed for it?”

When we turn pro we stop running from our fears. We turn around and face them.

Put your ass where your heart wants to be.

It’s better to be in the arena, getting stomped by the bull, than to be up in the stands or out in the parking lot.

The last thing we want is to remain as we are.

Resistance cannot be seen, touched, heard, or smelled. But it can be felt. We experince it as an energy field radiating from a work-in-potential… Its aim is to shove us away, distract us, prevent us from doing our work.

The sign of the amateur is overglorification of and preoccupation with the mystery. The professional shuts up. She doesn’t talk about it. She does her work.

Our greatest battle is to become ourselves, in the face of adversity.

Most of us have two lives. The life we live, and the unlived life within us. Between the two stands Resistance.

The opposite of fear is love – love of the challenge, love of the work, the pure joyous passion to take a shot at our dream and see if we can pull it off.

The most important thing about art is to work. Nothing else matters except sitting down every day and trying.

A child has no trouble believing the unbelievable, nor does the genius or the madman. It’s only you and I, with our big brains and our tiny hearts, who doubt and overthink and hesitate.

The professional will not tolerate disorder… He wants the carpet vacuumed and the threshold swept, so the Muse may enter and not soil her gown.

Courage is inseparable from love and leads to what may arguably be the noblest of all warrior virtues: selflessness.

We will have to choose between the life we want for our future and the life we have left behind.

It is one thing to study war and another to live the warrior’s life.

It’s one thing to lie to ourselves. It’s another thing to believe it.

Upon receiving Holy Communion, the Adorable Blood of Jesus Christ really flows in our veins and His Flesh is really blended with ours.

I had all of the love in the world but I could not see it. We are blind when we don’t know how to love the very bones and blood that make us.

Family is not who’s blood is in you, is who you love and who loves you.

The heart has no tears to give,–it drops only blood, bleeding itself away in silence.

Shame bleeds through generation to generation. That is not the legacy I wish for you.

Misery doesn’t love just any company it desires the kind presence only loneliness feeds but that’s not love at all. – love doesn’t eat it bleeds.

I woke up with the warrior in my blood.

It’s in my genes. My mother was an opera singer. I’m clearly dramatic.