That’s it?” Jason asked. “You spent an hour talking about how lucky you were to be dying?” No, not dying, Son. Living.

When I sit down to write a novel, I am exploring my own relationship with God, with the struggle between good and evil, my own purpose.

She suddenly began to jump up and down, screaming at the top of her lungs. "The arks are after me! The arks are after me! Help me, the arks are after me!" .... "The arks! You don't understand, I have the ring and the arks are after me!" .... (and so the police officer is puzzled long enough for Miriam and Seth to escape)

How can you hope to recognize good and evil for what they truly are if you have no belief in a moral authority greater than yourself?

In living we die, in dying we live.

To love in any way is to be like a child—it means to be vulnerable, to be wide-eyed, to be selfless. There is no such thing as free love; love is the most costly expression in the world. To love romantically is to give of oneself fully and completely, a merging and meshing of souls so that the twain become a unity. It is to allow the sense of wonder to fully enrapture.

Come hither, my dear. Come hither, that I mightest protectest thou!