The hardest thing about reality is returning to it after an hour inside your child's mind.

Sometimes to do the right thing, we must keep a promise we never made.

I hope some day to meet God, because I want to thank Him for the flowers.

Sometimes I sit up late with my thoughts, reluctant to fall asleep and leave my thoughts alone by themselves.

There comes a time when a man and woman realize that their separate schemes can be better achieved as a conspiracy.

In many areas of understanding, none so much as in our understanding of God, we bump up against a simplicity so profound that we must assign complexities to it to comprehend it at all. It is mindful of how we paste decals to a sliding glass door to keep from bumping our nose against it.

Time is a figure eight, at its center the city of Deja Vu.