“I do miss being pregnant. I find sometimes that I'm surprised by the difference between her body and my own -- that when I reach for her hand, I can't feel my touch with her fingers. This often happens when I walk with her in the sling, which must be as close as we can get to the womb. I'll touch her little leg or head and be surprised by the feeling of otherness. Her body is her own now.”

“It is painful to remember what and who we've lost, but it's also comforting. Grief can become its own comfort...the moment when grief itself overtakes the one grieved. When they become one and the same, so that we fear grief's retreat as much as we feared the beloved's passing.”

“We are so dependent on one another for faith. We hold faith communally, but there is no such thing as faith held communally but by no one in particular. There is nothing that completely transcends the individual. It is true that this person or that person may waiver from time to time. But at all times there must be someone holding it up. Jesus chose Peter exactly for this purpose. "You will be my rock," he said. And Peter had to bear faith, believe even when no one else could.”

“He said that the workings of God can be discerned only in retrospect and that he is always skeptical of people who speculate on God's will for the future, either the future of the world or of an individual life.”

“It's an incredible sadness," he said. He was quiet for a few moments before he spoke again. "It's an incredible sadness," he repeated, "but it wasn't for nothing.”

“I pause, examining her eyes, and then move forward with caution. “So if I kissed you right now, I wouldn’t be taking advantage of you?” “No, but I might be taking advantage of you. Your breath smells about as bad as the bottle.” She fans her nose with a smile. “Trust me. You can take advantage of me and I won’t mind, even when I sober up.” I press my lips to hers, feeling my heart thump in my chest as her breath catches. It grows silent as we lie with our foreheads touching and our breaths mingling. I place my hand on her hip, shutting my eyes, feeling the intensity of the moment like an open wound.”

“Their poses are all different but the face is the same. Painted from memory in scene after scene is the fresh-faced beauty. Kate.It's the bargain I've made with myself. If I can't caress her body with my hands, I paint it with my brushes. Use my fingers to trace her lines.”