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

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

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.

Why is it our failures only show us more clearly the people we are failing?

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.

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

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