Some acts of faith, I believe, have the power to grant us something infinitely wiser than we imagine

In language that's lyrical and haunting, Cheryl Strayed writes about bliss and loss, about the kind of grace that startles and transforms us in ordinary moments.

I like to keep myself wrapped in layers of sleep and wait for the geraniums.

I don't write for an audience. I write for myself. And if I imagine an audience at all, it's the characters, but I know that I would keep writing even if no one ever published me again, even if no one ever read me again.

The absence of doubt will turn humans into beasts.

What the river was showing her now was that she could flow beyond the brokenness, redeem herself, and fuse once more.

A perfectly happy marriage? There is no such thing. There are strong marriages that can survive problems, but happiness is such a brief condition, interrupted by difficulties and plain, boring routine.