Re-telling the Christian story is the essence of my vocation. That has been going on since the Evangelists in one form or another.

How shameful. How predictable! How insipid. And how sweet.

Dear God, help me. Do not forget me on this tiny cinder lost in a galaxy that is lost–a heart no bigger than a speck of dust beating, beating against death, against meaninglessness, against guilt, against sorrow.

The supernatural world has always been more real to me than the real world.

Anger is too pathetic. Anger is as weak as fear.

The worst takes its time to come, and then to pass.

…being an atheist required discipline very like that of being Catholic. One could never yield to the idea of a supernatural authority, no matter how often one might be tempted. To think that a personal God had made the world was to yield to a demonic and superstitious and destructive belief.