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.

If grace is so wonderful, why do we have such difficulty recognizing and accepting it? Maybe it's because grace is not gentle or made-to-order. It often comes disguised as loss, or failure, or unwelcome change.

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

When you are unhappy, is there anything more maddening than to be told that you should be contented with your lot?

The Christian religion asks us to put our trust not in ideas, and certainly not in ideologies, but in a God Who was vulnerable enough to become human and die, and Who desires to be present to us in our ordinary circumstances.

Traversing a slow page, to come upon a lode of the pure shining metal is to exult inwardly for greedy hours.

Over and over again mediocrity is promoted because real worth isn't to be found.