Life is full of grief, to exactly the degree we allow ourselves to love other people.
O my son Absalom,' Bean said softly, knowing for the first time the kind of anguish that could tear such words from a man’s mouth. 'my son, my son Absalom. Would God I could die for thee, O Absalom, my son. My sons!
The univers is statistically more likely to be ironic than not.
Sickness and healing are in every heart; death and deliverance in every hand.
Who would I be, if other good souls did not make up for my shortcomings?
The only process you've mastered is the process of elimination, and the only reason you've mastered that is because you can do it in the toilet.