Metaphor for the night sky: a trillion asterisks and no explanations.

In the happiest of our childhood memories, our parents were happy, too.

What is certainty but the refuge of those whose faith is not strong enough to entertain doubt.

The world knows how to straighten out a spoiled child but never makes it up to a child deprived.

There is in all animals a sense of duty that man condescends to call instinct.

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.

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.