We are each of us born into the arms of mortality, the Lord recognizing our need to be held.

In childhood, we yearn to be grown-ups. In old age, we yearn to be kids. It just seems that all would be wonderful if we didn't have to celebrate our birthdays in chronological order.

A man finds love and is satisfied. A woman finds love and insists on turning it into happiness.

Love is a condition where the world seems to be standing still, and it's you who are spinning on your axis.

I am not certain of the hereafter. Frankly, I'm not all that certain of the here.

In childhood, we press our nose to the pane, looking out. In memories of childhood, we press our nose to the pane, looking in.

Today I bent the truth to be kind, and I have no regret, for I am far surer of what is kind than I am of what is true.