well, it sounds strange, but when i think of God, i think of a soft whirring noise - like a spinning ball of energy - something i can tap into when i need it.

It's a lie, you know, to pretend that nothing is important to you. It's hiding. Believe me, I know because I hid for a long time. But now I won't do it anymore. The truth is bioluminescent. I don't lie, and I don't waste time on people who do.

well, it sounds strange, but when i think of God, i think of a soft whirring noise - like a spinning ball of energy - something i can tap into when i need it.

you give everyone the benefit of the doubt. they don't always deserve it.

I trust the red sun setting, the leafless November trees. On Monday morning I look foward fearlessly to Friday’s eve. But humans are not as reliable as nature, as trees. I wonder if you’ll come back; I trust only that you leave.

That's what I love about writing. Once you get the words down on paper, in print, they start to make sense. It's like you don't know what you think until it dribbles from your brain down your arm and into your hand and out through your fingers and shows up on the computer screen, and you read it and realize: That's really true; I believe that.

...and she said we all had to find God inside ourselves, in the things we loved most.