There is a fragrance in the air, a certain passage of a song, an old photograph falling out from the pages of a book, the sound of somebody's voice in the hall that makes your heart leap and fills your eyes with tears. Who can say when or how it will be that something easters up out of the dimness to remind us of a time before we were born and after we will die?

... the world can give you these glimpses as well as fairy tales can--the smell of rain, the dazzle of sun on white clapboard with the shadows of ferns and wash on the line, the wildness of a winter storm when in the house the flame of a candle doesn't even flicker.

Coincidences are God's way of getting our attention.

Religion points to that area of human experience where in one way or another man comes upon mystery as a summons to pilgrimage.

Toleration is often just indifference in disguise.

Maybe at the heart of all our traveling is the dream of someday, somehow, getting Home.

To be bored is to turn a cold shoulder to engage all that God is and has for you in the moment.