Each and every one of us has one obligation, during the bewildered days of our pilgrimage here: the saving of his own soul, and secondarily and incidentally thereby affecting for good such other souls as come under our influence.

It's all so beautiful . . . the spring . . . and books and music and fires. . . . Why aren't they enough?

Prayer is not asking for what you think you want, but asking to be changed in ways you can't imagine.

This is a God who is not identified with the help of a dictionary but through a relationship.

For grace to be grace, it must give us things we didn't know we needed and take us places where we didn't know we didn't want to go. As we stumble through the crazily altered landscape of our lives, we find that God is enjoying our attention as never before.

I am learning to see loneliness as a seed that, when planted deep enough, can grow into writing that goes back out into the world.

One may have been a fool, but there's no foolishness like being bitter.