“As a boy I heard this story in church.A man was patching a pitched roof of a tall building when he began sliding off. As he neared the edge of the roof he prayed, "Save me, Lord, and I'll go to church every Sunday, I'll give up drinking, I'll be the best man this city has ever known."As he finished his prayer, a nail snagged onto his overalls and saved him. The man looked up to the sky and shouted, "Never mind, God. I took care of it myself."How true of us.”

“Never criticize a man until you've walked a mile in his shoes. That way he can't do anything to you because you're a mile away and you've got his shoes.”

“The human life cycle no less than evolves around the box; from the open-topped box called a bassinet, to the pine box we call a coffin, the box is our past and, just as assuredly, our future. It should not surprise us then that the lowly box plays such a significant role in the first Christmas story. For Christmas began in a humble, hay-filled box of splintered wood. The Magi, wise men who had traveled far to see the infant king, laid treasure-filled boxes at the feet of that holy child. And in the end, when He had ransomed our sins with His blood, the Lord of Christmas was laid down in a box of stone. How fitting that each Christmas season brightly wrapped boxes skirt the pine boughs of Christmas trees around the world. ”

“…Or he could choose life. At that pivotal moment, it occurred to him that with all hisschooling in theology he had, perhaps, missed the entire point of his studies, the verycrux of the gospel he had professed to believe. That the measure of a person’s heart, thebarometer of good or evil, was nothing more than the extent of their willingness tochoose life over death. That the path of God was, simply, the path of life, abundant andeternal. And this is where he failed, for to choose life is to choose sorrow as well as joy,pain as well as pleasure. When Hunter had buried Rachel, he buried along with her hisheart, lest it might heal and feel and grow again. And in so doing he had chosen morethan death, he had chosen damnation itself, for damnation is nothing more than to stopa thing in its eternal progression. In that first flight from West Chester he had run notonly from the horror and pain of death but from life itself.”

“You want to know what hell is? What brimstone and burining really is?"Yes"Hell is the perfect recollection of every evil thing you've done in your life, every thoughtless word, every cruel, evil thought or action. It's knowing that you could have helped your brother and didn't. Hell is clarity, Bob. It's nothing more than clarity." He leaned forward as if to confide in me, his gaze intense. "Do you want to know what heaven is?"I was locked into his gaze. "Yes."His voice was barely above a whisper, "It's the same thing.”

“I'm no one important or famous, no matter. It is better to be loved by one person who knows your soul than millions who don't even know your phone number. I have loved and been loved as deeply as a man can hope for. Which makes me a lucky man. It also means that I have suffered. Life has taught me that to fly, you must first accept the possibility of falling.”

“In college I took a social psychology course, something I thought useful for a career in advertising. Psychologists tested the story of the Good Samaritan. What they learned gives us reason to pause. The greatest determinant of who stopped to help the stranger in need was not compassion, morality, or religious creed. It was those who had the time. Makes me wonder if I have time to do good. Apparently, Angel does.”