the problem is not suffering itself or oblivion itself but the depraved meaninglessness of these things, the absolutely inhuman nihilism of suffering.

She left me enough to rediscover the Great Perhaps.

We are now as I wished we could be then.

I realized during my time as a chaplain that I didn't want to be a minister.

Barnacles on the container ship of consciousness.

If I could just stay alive for a week, I’d know the unwritten secrets of Anna’s mom and the Dutch Tulip Guy.

Margo's beauty was a kind of sealed vessel of perfection--uncracked and uncrackable.