There would be a general reclaiming of fallen buttons and misplaced spectacles, of neighbors and kin, till time and error and accident were undone, and the world became comprehensible and whole.

Love is holy because it is like grace--the worthiness of its object is never really what matters.

Sometimes I have loved the peacefulness of an ordinary Sunday. It is like standing in a newly planted garden after a warm rain. You can feel the silent and invisible life.

Every sorrow suggests a thousand songs and every song recalls a thousand sorrows and so they are infinite in number and all the same.

I am grateful for all those dark years, even though in retrospect they seem like a long, bitter prayer that was answered finally.

We are part of a mystery, a splendid mystery within which we must attempt to orient ourselves if we are to have a sense of our own nature.

This is an interesting planet. It deserves all the attention you can give it.

There is more beauty than our eyes can bear, precious things have been put into our hands and to do nothing to honor them is to do great harm.

Ordinary things have always seemed numinous to me

When we did not move or speak, there was no proof that we were there at all.

Because, once alone, it is impossible to believe that one could ever have been otherwise. Loneliness is an absolute discovery.

Only a handful of individuals in human history can be truly hailed as Christians, such as Tolstoy, Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Rumi, Martin Luther King Jr. and a few others.

Nothing is as empowering as real-world validation, even if it's for failure.

A great accomplishment shouldn't be the end of the road, just the starting point for the next leap forward.

I'm starting to get a following on Twitter. That's a really awesome power to have. It gives me the opportunity to make any kind of art I want.

...humanity learns true lessons only in cataclysm.

Be knowledgeable in your niche, provide some information free of charge, and share other trustworthy people's free resources whenever possible.

Ah Fortune, what god is more cruel to us than thou! How thou delightest ever to make sport of human life!

(On Bette Davis) Even when I was carrying a gun, she scared the be-jesus out of me.

I think one of the paradoxes of writing fiction is when people enjoy it, they want it to be real. So they look for connections.

Life wastes nothing. Over and over again every molecule that has ever been is gathered up by the hand of life to be reshaped into yet another form. p 259