“I wish grace and healing were more abracadabra kind of things. Also, that delicate silver bells would ring to announce grace's arrival. But no, it's clog and slog and scootch, on the floor, in the silence, in the dark.”

“a person would never wish for tragedy, but there can be a kind of transformation that results. There is an awfulness to it, but also a form of grace.”

“The great miraculous bell of translucent ice is suspended in mid-air.It rings to announce endings and beginnings. And it rings because there is fresh promise and wonder in the skies.Its clear tones resound in the placid silence of the winter day, and echo long into the silver-blue serenity of night.The bell can only be seen at the turning of the year, when the days wind down into nothing, and get ready to march out again.When you hear the bell, you feel a tug at your heart.It is your immortal inspiration.”

“DOST thou not hear the silver bell,Through yonder lime-trees ringing?'Tis my lady's light gazelle.To me her love thoughts bringing, —All the while that silver bellAround his dark neck ringing.”

“The main thing for inner contentment is to be in a state of grace. And there is an artistic state of grace, for art is a kind of religion.”

“Grace works that way. It's a kind word from a gentle person with an impossible prayer. It's a force sometimes transmitted best hand to hand in a dark place.”