For that moment, at least, all our doors and windows were wide open; we were not carefully shutting out God's purifying light, in order to feel safe and secure; we were bathed in the same light that burned and yet did not consume the bush. We walked barefoot on holy ground.

God understands. And God understands that part of us which is more than we think we are.

Great art transcends its culture and touches on that which is eternal.

But grief still has to be worked through. It is like walking through water. Sometimes there are little waves lapping about my feet. Sometimes there is an enormous breaker that knocks me down. Sometimes there is a sudden and fierce squall. But I know that many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it.

You don't want him for a reason. You want him because he's your father.

In my dreams, I never have an age.

What can we give a child when there is nothing left?