It was about forgiving. I understood that forgiveness itself was strong, durable—like strands of a web weaving around us, holding us.

It's all a big old chain. There isn't one unconnected link.

Ordinary life was laced with miracles, I knew that, had read enough poetry to understand that we are elevated with the knowing, and yet it was difficult to notice and be grateful when one was continually fatigued and irritated. I suppose that unquenchable sense of wonder is what separates us dolts from the saints and the poets.

I feel like I don't have all the ingredients a person is supposed to have.

My god has always been a laissez-faire deity, giving you the initial goods and sending you on to make your way.

...you have to learn where your pain is. You have to burrow down and find the wound, and if the burden of it is too terrible to shoulder, you have to shout it out; you have to shout for help... And then finally, the way through grief is grieving.

In the end maybe what marriage offered was the determination of one's burial site.