“...Sunday evenings are heavier than clouds with rain, darker too and often interminable...”

“...beneath torrents of spring rain, buds come to life - and we do too, beneath torments of tears...”

“... God is not a Sunday plumber - he's always available...”

“...in my dream the shadings of your soul are the dark tincture of rain...”

“...the bones of cirrus clouds stand out like ribs against the sky - an angel is stretching...”

“... only darkened trails of rain could paint your face upon a pane...”

“...when I was a kid, Toronto streets were deserted and quiet on Sundays, except for the sound of church bells I stood on the sidewalk one December listening to the Christmas bells - I've never forgotten that moment...”