“We’re too much ourselves. Afraid of letting go of what we are, in case we are nothing, and holding on so tight, we lose everything else.”

“Nothing else wounds so deeply and irreparably. Nothing else robs us of hope so much as being unloved by one we love”

“We cry for ourselves, don't we? Not for the dead. The dead are past caring.”

“Nothing happens carelessly. We’re not brought into the world without reason, even though we may never understand the reason. An infant that lives an hour, that dies before it can lay eyes on those who made it, even that soul did not live without purpose: this is my sudden certainty.”

“We burn so hard, but we shed so little light; it makes us crazy and sad.”

“Leavening the flat bread of what we know, with the yeast of what we dream may come to pass.”

“So we make stories of our own, in fevered and envious imitation of our Maker, hoping that we'll tell, by chance, what God left untold. And finishing our tale, come to understand why we were born.”