“ToadstoolsThe toadstools are starting to comeup, circular and dry.Nothing will touch them,Gophers or chipmunks, wasps or swallows.They glow in the twilight like rooted will-o’-the-wisps.Nothing will touch them.As though little roundabouts from the bunched unburiable,Powers, dominions,As though orphans rode herd in the short grass, as though they had heard the call,They will always be with us, transcenders of the world.Someone will try to stick his beak into their otherworldly styrofoam.Someone may try to taste a taste of forever.For some it’s a refuge, for some a shady place to fall down.Grief is a floating barge-boat, who knows where it’s going to moor?”

“Some people are born with the first word of a language resting on their tongue though it may take some time before they can taste it.”

“some we know to be dead even though they walk among us; some are not yet born though they go through all the forms of life; other are hundreds of years old though they call themselves thirty-six”

“The yearning to know what cannot be known, to comprehend the incomprehensible, to touch and taste the unapproachable, arises from the image of God in the nature of man. Deep calleth unto deep, and though polluted and landlocked by the mighty disaster theologians call the Fall, the soul senses its origin and longs to return to its source.”

“There is a place deep, deep inside every person that is hidden and hard to find. If things get bad enough and life gets too hard, though, some people will go to that place and never come back from it. Certainly, all outward appearances will suggest otherwise. They will look as they always did. They may even act somewhat like their old selves, but the trut is, the real truth is that they are hiding in this place deep inside where no one can touch or hurt them anymore.”

“It’s us against them, three against countless thousands. But for some reason, and even though it’s absurd, at that moment I feel pretty damn good about our odds.”