Six books… my mother didn’t want books falling into my hands. It never occurred to her that I fell into the books – that I put myself inside them for safe keeping.

I am not tempted by God but I love his trappings.

Like all familiar objects, it had become invisible.

I choose this story above all others because it's a story I'm struggling to end.

Today, the sun is everywhere, and everything solid is nothing but its own shadow, I know that the real things in life, the things I remember, the things I turn over in my hands, are not houses, bank accounts, prizes or promotions. What I remember is love -- all love -- love of this dirt road, this sunrise, a day by the river, the stranger I met in a café. Myself, even, which is the hardest thing of all to love, because love and selfishness are not the same thing. It is easy to be selfish. It is hard to love who I am. No wonder I am surprised if you do.

You said, 'I love you.' Why is it that the most unoriginal thing we can say to one another is still the thing we long to hear?

The impulse to worship is impossible to eradicate. Even the most prosaic have to worship something.