It is one thing to be sick of your own infirmities and another to understand that the people you love most are sick of them also. You are very near then to being friendless in the world.

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

Once traveling, it's remarkable how quickly faith erodes. It starts to look like something else--ignorance, for example. Same thing happened to the Israelites. Sure it's weak, but sometimes you'd rather just have a map.

Fresh peach pie can lift a bullying reprobate into apologetic courtesy; I have watched it happen.

Love is a strange fact - it hopes all things, believes all things, endures all things. It makes no sense at all.

Is there a single person on whom I can press belief? No sir. All I can do is say, Here's how it went. Here's what I saw. I've been there and am going back. Make of it what you will.

What else exhausts like sustained deception?