“Dear Jesus...how foolish of me to have called for human help when You are here.”

“So when you look at Jesus and it appears that he's flying he really is...flying. But what you are actually seeing is me my life in him. That's how he lives and acts as a true human how every human is designed to live-out of my life.”

“How silly, my dear; don't you know that if I came here as a child, then most of me never left?”

“Jesus loves you.”“Then how come he never calls?”

“You don't know how you haunt and bewilder me. You don't know how the cursed carelessness that is over-officious in helping me at every other turning of my life WON'T help me here. You have struck it dead, I think, and I sometimes wish you had struck me dead along with it.”

“Dear reader. Dear, dear reader. Here we find ourselves, you and me, engaged in a book in which someone has just exclaimed, in all seriousness, 'The sentient lobsters!'How did we end up here? Did we make some mistake along the way?”