After three years down here, I've not learned too much. But one thing I do know is that our bellies aren't big enough for revenge. It turns sour and eats you up. We'll get out, but we'll get out for the sun, the moon, and mothers, not for small-souled enemies, though we'll deal with them when we get there.

Stories are like catechisms, but they're catechisms for your impulses, they're catechisms with flesh on.

That wasn't me. I'm not a morning person. There's another person inside of me that does all the morning things.

Narrative living is the beginning of rhetoric.

God is a God of galaxies, of storms, of roaring seas and boiling thunder, but He is also the God of bread baking, of a child's smile, of dust motes in the sun. He is who He is, and always shall be. Look around you now. He is speaking always and everywhere. His personality can be seen and known and leaned upon. The sun is belching flares while mountains scrape our sky while ants are milking aphids on their colonial leaves and dolphins are laughing in the surf and wheat is rippling and wind is whipping and a boy is looking into the eyes of a girl and mortals are dying.

May my living be grace to those behind me.

Horace smiled. "Always breakfast like a man condemned. One never knows that a day may bring."