Just the knowledge that a good book is waiting one at the end of a long day makes that day happier.

The ordinary activities I find most compatible with contemplation are walking, baking bread, and doing laundry.

Only Christ could have brought us all together, in this place, doing such absurd but necessary things.

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

To be an American is to move on, as if we could outrun change. To attach oneself to place is to surrender to it, and suffer with it.

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.

A short-lived fascination with another person may be exciting-I think we've all seen people aglow, in a state of being "in love with love"-but such an attraction is not sustainable over the long run. Paradoxically, human love is sanctified not in the height of attraction and enthusiasm, but in the everyday struggles of living with another person. It is not in romance but in routine that the possibilities for transformation are made manifest. And that requires commitment.