“Flannery O'Connor ... points out that 'a story really isn't good unless it successfully resists paraphrase. ...' ... Paraphrasing can force us into deeper levels of both story and self. O'Connor also says that a good story 'hangs on and expands the mind.' ... Most importantly, as we explore the largeness of stories, their 'macro' possibilities, we are forced further into the largeness of our own lives. The 'hidden' story, made visible, can be that which is most difficult to confront in our experiences and, at the same time, the story that demands to be told.”

“Stories," he'd said, his voice low and almost husky, "we are made up of stories. And even the ones that seem the most like lies can be our deepest hidden truths.”

“Our stories are what we have,” Our Good Mother says. “Our stories preserve us. we give them to one another. Our stories have value. Do you understand?”

“I write because the lives of all of us are stories. If enough of those stories are told, then perhaps we will begin to see that our lives are the same story. The differences are merely in the details.”

“Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.”

“Our life stories are largely constructed and without mindfulness can prove destructive.”