Like Christmas trees and Easter egg hunts and the block party on the last day of summer, we do things because traditions feel cozy and safe.

Even when everything hurts, even when other cities are exploding and people we love are disappearing, there’s still space for sweet things.

I want to know if we are the same, in the moments when we’re stripped bare.

We have to give up so many things when the people we love die. So we hang on to other familiar things.

I can’t quite figure out the difference between loving someone and loving things about them.

Love is insanity, apparently.

Love is something you have or don’t have. Love is like a fever.

It sounds like love just sort of happens, whether you want it to or not, whether you’re married or not.

Sometimes words I think are small come out big.

On our own, we’d look totally normal. Together, we’re something else. Together, we’re special.

We don’t smile, but we something. We something. It hurts, the way a deep connection to someone who isn’t yours sometimes does.

There are two ways to get enough. One is to continue to accumulate more and more. The other is to desire less.

If we say that God has always been, why not save a step and conclude that the universe has always been?

When you go to other parks, they hang banners for the wild-card or Eastern Division or Western Division champions. Around here, they don't hang anything unless its for being world champions.

Everything I think of now is too rude to actually say.

You don't have the right to be left alone with that abortion decision. The child is present...you are not alone.

After two or three days, the door will close and you will not be able to make those changes as easily.

My ego is controlled enough that I don't have to be the focus.

I'm fighting for people who cannot wait for changes, and I'm not making promises that I cannot keep.

I don't meditate in any formal way, but I often lie in bed or find myself in nature and enter into that state of quiet where I get images, feelings, or melodies.

Sometimes I wonder if we don't see Christ's love as much in the people he tolerated as in the pain he endured.