“If God Speaks Through Burning Bushes, Let's Burn Bush and Listen to What God Says.”

“I said nothing. If she wasn't careful, everyone would rush out of her life, life out of a burning building.”

“Great. Not only will I be a hairy bush, but I'll look as if I'm about to catch fire, I'll be the burning bush.”

“We are lucky simply to be alive together; why get differentiating and judgemental about who is here among us? Thank God there is anyone at all.”

“Pulling through is what people do around here. There is a kind of bravery in their lives that isn’t bravery at all. It is automatic, unflinching, a mix of man and machine, consuming and unquestionable obligation meeting illness move for move in a giant even-steven game of chess – an unending round of something that looks like shadowboxing, though between love and death, which is the shadow? “Everyone admires us for our courage,” says one man. “They have no idea what they’re talking about.”“Courage requires options,” the man adds.“There are options,” says a woman with a thick suede headband. “You could give up. You could fall apart.”“No you can’t. Nobody does. I’ve never seen it,” says the man. “Well, not really fall apart.”

“We were in dialogue that was about something other than what we were saying.”

“The faces of the panel listening were the very embodiment of skepticism made flesh.”