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.

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.

I prayed the Lord would sort (my prayers) out and answer as needed. Above all that he would hurry.

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.

Real miracles bother people, like strange sudden pains unknown in medical literature. It's true: They rebut every rule all we good citizens take comfort in. Lazarus obeying orders and climbing up out of the grave - now there's a miracle, and you can bet it upset a lot of folks who were standing around at the time. When a person dies, the earth is generally unwilling to cough him back up. A miracle contradicts the will of the earth.

We and the world, my children, will always be at war. Retreat is impossible. Arm yourselves.

What else exhausts like sustained deception?