He said to me once that most of the time people use the word love as just another way to show off they're hungry. The way he said it went something like: Glorify their appetites.

He might have been naive, but he didn't care; he said he's rather die with his heart on his sleeve than end up another cynic.

What was a life anyway? An accumulation of small shelves of incident.

Let it be. Silly song, really. You let it be, it returns. There's the truth. You let it be, it drags you to the ground. You let it be, it crawls up your walls.

Corrigan told me once that Christ was quite easy to understand. He went where He was supposed to go. He stayed where He was needed. He took little or nothing along, a pair of sandals, a bit of a shirt, a few odds and ends to stave off the loneliness. He never rejected the world. If He had rejected it, He would have been rejecting mystery. And if He rejected mystery, He would have been rejecting faith.

I grew up sort of middle class, safe and suburban.

One look at each other and it was immediately understood that they both needed a clean slate,,, The obliteration of memory.