Hope is like yeast, you know, rising under warmth.

You can embark on new and steeper versions of your old sins, you know, and cry tears while doing it that are genuine as any.

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

Pride is the rope God allows us all.

Of all facial expressions, which is the worst to have aimed at you? Wouldn't you agree it's disgust?

Fair is whatever God wants to do.

My sister, Swede, who often sees to the nub, offered this: People fear miracles because they fear being changed--though ignoring them will change you also. Swede said another thing, too, and it rang in me like a bell: No miracle happens without a witness. Someone to declare, Here's what I saw. Here's how it went. Make of it what you will.