[S]he believed that the Buddhists were right–that if you want, you will suffer; if you love, you will grieve. (68)

If your wife locks you out of the house, you don't have a problem with your door.

For me, Jesus is my cleft in the rock. He is my safest friend, my safe totally loving accepting big brother.

Think of a fine painter attempting to capture an inner vision, beginning with one corner of the canvas, painting what she thinks should be there, not quite pulling it off, covering it over with white paint, and trying again, each time finding out what her painting isn't, until she finally finds out what it is. And when you finally do find out what one corner of your vision is; you're off and running.

When writers make us shake our heads with the exactness of their prose and their truths, and even make us laugh about ourselves or life, our buoyancy is restored. We are given a shot at dancing with, or at least clapping along with, the absurdity of life, instead of being squashed by it over and over again.

Gratitude, not understanding, is the secret to joy and equanimity.

Lies cannot nourish or protect you. Only freedom from fear, freedom from lies, can make us beautiful, and keep us safe.