But mostly I wondered why the head could move so swiftly while the heart dragged its feet. I still loved him. It felt like anything else permanent that has gone missing; a lost tooth, a severed leg. You might know better, but that doesn’t keep your tongue from poling at the hole in your gum, or your phantom limb from aching.

I don't know why it's called "getting lost." Even when you turn down the wrong street, when you find yourself at the dead end of a chain-link fence or a road that turnd to sand, you are somewhere. It just isn't where you expected to be.

What if love wasn't the act of finding what you were missing but the give-and-take that made you both match?

Violence up close has a smell. Like copper blood and charcoal burning.

Envy, after all, comes from wanting something that isn't yours. But grief comes from losing something you've already had.

A sacrament--like marriage--means living a life better than your natural instincts, so that you're modeling God. And God never gives up.

Fiction allows for moral questioning, but through the back door. Personally, I like books that make you think - books you're still wondering about three days after you finish them; books you hand to a friend and say "Read this, so we can talk about it."