On the day of my judgment, when I stand before God, and He asks me why did I kill one of his true miracles, what am I gonna say? That it was my job? My job?

The King is in his Tower, eating bread and honey. The Breakers in the basement, making all the money.

He could feel the pores of his body open like a million mouths and slurp the water in like a sponge.

Everyone needs a hobby, he said. And everyone needs a miracle or two, just to prove life is more than just one long trudge from the cradle to the grave.

Kindle, isn’t it?” the waitress asked. “I got one for Christmas, and I love it. I’m reading my way through all of Jodi Picoult’s books.” “Oh, probably not all of them,” Wesley said. “Huh? Why not?” “She’s probably got another one done already. That’s all I meant.” “And James Patterson’s probably written one since he got up this morning!” she said, and went off chortling.

If being a kid is about learning how to live, then being a grown-up is about learning how to die.

Every man or woman who loves Him, they hate Him too, because He's a hard God, a jealous God.