Is childhood ever long enough, or a happy time, or even a beautiful summer day? All of these carry the seeds of the same fierce mystery that we call death.

Is childhood ever long enough, or a happy time, or even a beautiful summer day? All of these carry the seeds of the same fierce mystery that we call death.

We not only romanticize the future; we have also made it into a growth industry, a parlor game and a disaster movie all at the same time.

Mercy is a source of life because we breathe our own spirits through it into the lives of others.

Death is by no means separate from life. . . . We all interact with death every day, tasting it as we might a wine, feeling its keen edge even in trifling losses and disappointments, holding it by the hand, as a dancer might a partner, in every separation.

The real test of friendship is can you literally do nothing with the other person? Can you enjoy those moments of life that are utterly simple?

Life does not hurt nearly as much if we have learned to listen to ourselves and to recognize how fully and richly we are trying to tell ourselves the truth.