Food is a gift and should be treated reverentially--romanced and ritualized and seasoned with memory.

When it seems you have nothing at all to live for, death is not especially frightening.

Dead … might not be quiet at all.

The world is filled with human toxins -- not the darkness that we all occasionally crave, but actually people who are so unwilling to bask in the angelic light that is offered us all that they grow poisonous -- and you can pray for their eventual recovery and healing. And sometimes those prayers will be answered. But sometimes these individuals have been vaccinated against goodness and against angels and they are so unwilling to give an inch to their God that often they never (and I use this expression absolutely literally) see the light.

The honest answer is more complex. On some level I was sent. Or inspired. Or called. But my calling, such as it was, wasn't a single booming invitation from above (really, is it ever?).

I have lived with magic and without magic, and I can tell you with certainty that a life with magic is better.

He defined himself almost wholly in the negative: It was not who he was, it was who he was not.