It was as if this night were only one of thousands of nights, world without end, night curving into night to make a great arching line of which I couldn’t see the end, a night in which I roamed alone under cold, mindless stars.

Remember always, he said, that nothing is as precious to us as the magnificent gift of life. Let the moon and the stars always remind you of this-that though we are tiny creatures in this universe, we are filled with life.

To write something, you have to risk making a fool of yourself.

People who cease to believe in God or goodness altogether still believe in the devil. I don't know why. No, I do indeed know why. Evil is always possible. And goodness is eternally difficult.

It is tragic that many in America think of us - Christians - as being people who hate others.

Garden of Pain, I need you. What were the songs of beasts to the cries of sentient souls?

The atheism and nihilism of my earlier years now seems shallow, and even a bit cocky.