I've met God across his long walnut desk with his diplomas hanging on the wall behind him, and God asks me, 'Why?' Why did I cause so much pain? Didn't I realize that each of us is a sacred, unique snowflake of special unique specialness? Can't I see how we're all manifestations of love? I look at God behind his desk, taking notes on a pad, but God's got this all wrong. We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens. And God says, 'No, that's not right.' Yeah. Well. Whatever. You can't teach God anything.

No, it's not fair, but what makes Earth feel like Hell is our expectation that it should feel like Heaven. Earth is earth. Dead is dead. You'll find out for yourself soon enough. It won't help the situation for you to get all upset.

History is nothing except monsters or victims. Or witnesses.

Where would Jesus be if no one had written the gospels?

The amazing miracle of death, when one second you're walking and talking, and the next second you're an object.

After you hear even the shortest great story, it should fill you with a little bit of fear.

You had to risk your life to get love. You had to get right to the edge of death to ever be saved.