“Our hearts are not pure:our hearts are filled with needand greed as much as with love and grace,and we wrestle with our hearts all the time.The wrestling is who we are.How we wrestle is who we are.What we want to be is never what we are.Not yet. Maybe that's why we have theserelentless engines in our chests, driving us forwardtoward what we might be."Orion (Jan/Feb 2005)”

“When young we think there will come one person who will savor and sustain us always; when we are older we know this is the dream of a child, that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn, repaired by time and will, patched by force of character, yet fragile and rickety forevermore, no matter how ferocious the defense and how many bricks you bring to the wall.”

“So much held in a heart in a lifetime. So much held in a heart in a day, an hour, a moment. We are utterly open with no one, in the end -- not mother and father, not wife or husband, not lover, not child, not friend. We open windows to each but we live alone in the house of the heart. Perhaps we must. Perhaps we could not bear to be so naked, for fear of a constantly harrowed heart. When young we think there will come one person who will savor and sustain us always; when we are older we know this is the dream of a child, that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn, repaired by time and will, patched by force of character, yet fragile and rickety forevermore, no matter how ferocious the defense and how many bricks you bring to the wall. You can brick up your heart as stout and tight and hard and cold and impregnable as you possibly can and down it comes in an instant, felled by a woman's second glance, a child's apple breath, the shatter of glass in the road, the words 'I have something to tell you,' a cat with a broken spine dragging itself into the forest to die, the brush of your mother's papery ancient hand in a thicket of your hair, the memory of your father's voice early in the morning echoing from the kitchen where he is making pancakes for his children.”

“We don't need wings to be angelsWe don't need reasons to be rightYour love makes us all betterThat who we really areAngels and heroes at heart”

“We are the sum total of our memories.Memories are the most precious things we have.Good or bad. That's what make us who we are.What would we be without them?”

“We are our memories," Dodge said. "That's all we are. That's what makes us the person we are. The sum of all our memories from the day we were born. If you took a person and replaced his set of memories with another set, he'd be a different person. He'd think, act, and feel things differently.”

“We must face our responsibilities regardless of whether we get what we want.”