What else exhausts like sustained deception?

You can’t kill history. You can’t shoot it with a bullet and watch it recede into whatever lies outside of memory. History is tougher than that—if it’s going to die, it has to die on its own

Routine is worry's sly assassin.

Pride is the rope God allows us all.

When a person dies, the earth is generally unwilling to cough him back up. A miracle contradicts the will of earth.

Many a night I woke to the murmer of paper and knew (Dad) was up, sitting in the kitchen with frayed King James - oh, but he worked that book; he held to it like a rope ladder.

Real miracles bother people, like strange sudden pains unknown in medical literature.