Novels must have verisimilitude, and truth has little enough of that.
There is a charm, even for homely things, in perfect maintenance.
Buechner is a worthy member of the great prose stylists: Pascal, Newman, and Merton, who have harnessed their art to a passionate religious faith.
I think Shakespeare got drunk after he finished King Lear. That he had a ball writing it.
Perfection irritates as well as it attracts, in fiction as in life.
Keep doing good deeds long enough, and you'll probably turn out a good man in spite of yourself.