I would seriously rather be in a long line at the DMV than eat with people I don't know.

You don't want to spend your time around people who make you hold your breath. You can't fill up when you're holding your breath. And writing is about filling up, filling up when you are empty, letting images and ideas and smells run down like water - just as writing is also about dealing with the emptiness.

I do not at all understand the mystery of grace - only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.

Love falls to earth, rises from the ground, pools around the afflicted. Love pulls people back to their feet. Bodies and souls are fed. Bones and lives heal. New blades of grass grow from charred soil. The sun rises.

Rationality squeezes out much that is rich and juicy and fascinating.

This business of having been issued a body is deeply confusing... Bodies are so messy and disappointing.

We are a species that needs and wants to understand who we are. Sheep lice do not seem to share this longing, which is one reason why they write so little.