“I don't try to make sense of suffering. I try to make sense of life...I try each day to see God's will...I console myself with the old Negro spiritual, 'Sooner will be done the troubles of this world. I'm going home to live with God.”

“As I walk back to the school on my own, I realise I'm crying. So I go back to the stories I've read about the five and I try to make sense of their lives because in making sense of theirs, I may understand mine.”

“When I write now, I pretend I'm holding hands with the old me. I try to make sense of all those questions for her...”

“I don't try to imagine a personal God; it suffices to stand in awe at the structure of the world, insofar as it allows our inadequate senses to appreciate it.”

“She pulled away. "That doesn't make any sense.""Neither does this," he said, "but I don't care. I'm sick of trying to pretend I can live without you. Don't you understand that? Can't you see it's killing me?”

“When I stop trying to create a life for myself, I find the life God creates for me. When I cease trying to make a name for myself—competing, grasping, pushing my way to the top—His name emerges through the actions of my life.”