No one thinks much about their ability to breathe; they just do it. It's when a person can't breathe, that they suddenly realize they'd been doing something truly marvelous all along.

I don't know very many people who can piece together eloquent prayers when their souls are wounded. Words don't come at those times, but tears do. I have always thought of my tears as prayers.

We moved wordlessly from one room to another, from the room of the dead to the room where time lay in pages everywhere I looked.

We are born knowing how to be just. And we die knowing we spent a lifetime pretending we didn't.

Our flaws are obvious, yet we are loved and able to love, if we choose, because there is that bit of the divine still smoldering in us.

When we trust someone, we believe what they tell us is true. We experience it as being true. It's not the experience itself that empowers us to believe it. It is the trust.

Confidence tends to minimize the magnitude of the choice.