“We lived always in the stretch or sag of nerves, either on the crest or in the trough of waves of feeling.”

“What we see as death,empty space, or nothingness is only the trough between the crests of thisendlessly waving ocean. It is all part of the illusion that there shouldseem to be something to be gained in the future, and that there is anurgent necessity to go on and on until we get it. Yet just as there is notime but the present, and no one except the all-and-everything, there isnever anything to be gained—though the zest of the game is to pretendthat there is.”

“We are a dream of a thought which lives trough the Word.”

“Spirituality has always felt to me as private as sexuality. We don't go waving our wieners all over the place and we shouldn't wave our gods around either.”

“With the sound of waves outside, the bed seemed like our own Guld and we were swimmers. Front to front, out bodies slicked with sweat, each swimming and stroking, one against the other. We rode the waves to the crests, then plummeted down, only to ride the wave to the next breaker. We swam against the current that threatened to pull us under.”

“I just sat there, staring out towards the darkness of the ocean and the starlight flashing off the crests of the waves and knew that we were all part of this bigger whole. That somehow I mattered in the course of things and a part of me would always have left its mark on this world.”