The sin of the desert is knowing where the water is and not sharing it.

We can only lose what we have first claimed.

Everyone has some inner power that awaits discovery.

Love never gives in or up, holding tight to lofty ideals that transcend this earth and time, while its counterfeit simply concludes it was mistaken and quickly runs off to find the next real thing.

We cannot enslave others without enslaving a part of ourselves.

There are far too many people for us to think about each of them during our short stay on earth—like the thousands of books in a library we haven’t time to read in an afternoon. But this is no excuse to cease browsing. For every now and then, we find that one book that reaches us deep inside and introduces us to ourselves. And, in someone else’s story, we come to understand our own.

My grandfather, a devout Christian, had the gift of healing.