Sometimes in my tent, late at night, I think I can hear the stars scraping against the sky.

God doesn't call the equipped, son. God equips the called. And you have been called.

Because promises matter. They matter now more than ever.

We’re here, and then we’re gone, and it’s not about the time we’re here, but what we do with the time.

Then I strip the pants away from each leg, like peeling a banana. That's it, the perfect metaphor: peeling a banana.

He barely knew I existed. I knew some of the same people he knew, but I was a girl in the background, several degrees of seperation removed.

Why did they come billions of miles just to stare at us? It's rude.