Everything I do or say will be forgotten in a few short years. Yet how amazing and wonderful it is that somehow I still care, just simply care about whatever I do, and will probably do so until my dying moment.

To insist that I am not forgiven is a kind of inverse arrogance.

We all have the right to be wrong and be loved just the same.

Life is a process of continually reordering priorities.

On the whole I feel that life has treated me rather well, but I sometimes wonder how well have I treated life.

I feel that the only true security I have is my capacity, however limited, to love.

Until we can sense a sacred quality in time we will not begin to have a fuller understanding of it.