Routine is worry's sly assassin.

Once in my life I knew a grief so hard I could actually hear it inside, scraping at the lining of my stomach, an audible ache, dredging with hooks as rivers are dredged when someone's been missing too long. I have to think my mother felt something like that.

Sometimes heroism is nothing more than patience, curiosity, and a refusal to panic.

Be careful whom you choose to hate. The small and the vulnerable own a protection great enough, if you could but see it, to melt you into jelly. Beware those who reside beneath the shadow of the Wings.

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

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.

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.