“Snow sweeping downward, While the flowers reach upward--Winter storm in spring.”

“As artist Nature splashes color across the vast canvas of the sky withthe radiance and splendor of sunrise and sunset.She arches rainbows against the passing storm, creates flowers and foliage,sets autumn woods on fire with the beauty of turning leavesand touches mountaintops with snow crystals.”

“There's just something about the way he sings. It makes me think of when it snows outside, and the fire is warm, and Podo is telling us a story while you're cooking, and there's no place I'd rather be--but for some reason I still feel... homesick.”

“Often times we reach out to people who would rather not be reached. We love people who reject our love and would just as soon spit in our face, but Jesus asks us to go on loving--go on reaching. It's easy to love someone when they love us, but so much harder to love when we are treated poorly by that person.”

“I am convinced that poets are toddlers in a cathedral, slobbering on wooden blocks and piling them up in the light of the stained glass. We can hardly make anything beautiful that wasn’t beautiful in the first place. We aren’t writers, but gleeful rearrangers of words whose meanings we can’t begin to know. When we manage to make something pretty, it’s only so because we are ourselves a flourish on a greater canvas. That means there’s no end to the discovery. We may crawl around the cathedral floor for ages before we grow up enough to reach the doorknob and walk outside into a garden of delights. Beyond that, the city, then the rolling hills, then the sea. And when the world of every cell has been limned and painted and sung, we lie back on the grass, satisfied that our work is done. Then, of course, the sun sets and we see above us the dark dome of glittering stars.On and on it goes, all the way to the lightless borderlands of time and space, which we come to discover in some future age are but the beginnings or endings of a single word spoken from the mouth of God. Some nights, while I traipse down the hill, I imagine that word isn’t a word at all, but a burst of laughter.”

“He had long been curious at leaders intermittent calls for a return to past values and had tested the notion by trying to build a house from the sky downwards”

“He reaches over a goat that's come between us and grabs my hand."Don't let go!" he orders. Harper's hand is dry and soothing, while mine is sweaty with fear. We've never held hands before. I think about what it means in the village when boys and girls only a few years older then Harper and me wander around with their hands clasped together. They're always peering dreamily into each other's eyes, sneaking sky kisses...and soon after, there's a wedding.”