Listening to Dad’s guitar, halting yet lovely in the search for phrasing, I thought: Fair is whatever God wants to do.
SOON, he replied, which makes better sense under the rules of that country than ours. VERY SOON! he added, clasping my hands; then, unable to keep from laughing, he pushed off from the rock like a boy...
You can’t explain grace, anyway, especially when it arrives almost despite yourself. I didn’t even ask for it, yet somehow it breached and began to work.
You are no failure, on a river. The water moves regardless - for all it cares, you might be a minnow or a tadpole, a turtle on a beavered log. You might be nothing at all.
We and the world, my children, will always be at war.Retreat is impossible.Arm yourselves.
What makes a Samaritan good is the possibility of the lunge.
Once traveling, it's remarkable how quickly faith erodes. It starts to look like something else--ignorance, for example. Same thing happened to the Israelites. Sure it's weak, but sometimes you'd rath...
I remember it as October days are always remembered, cloudless, maple-flavored, golden and so clean it quivers.
This was maybe best of all. I never once expected to be someone's nice surprise.
Was working the cold up
The man on the water stood forty yards out.
Although saying this, I realize it may have been illusory. Memory’s oldest trick is convincing us of its accuracy.
People fear miracles because they fear being changed—though ignoring them will change you also.
When a person dies, the earth is generally unwilling to cough him back up. A miracle contradicts the will of earth.
It is one thing to say you're at war with this whole world and stick your chest out believing it, but when the world shows up with it's crushing numbers and its predatory knowledge, it is another thin...
One of her recent letters asks, Is it hubris to believe we all live epics? (Perhaps it is, but I suspect she’s not actually counting on me for an answer.)
There is no better sound than whom you adore when they are sleepy and pleased
Once in school, going down to lunch from our third-floor classroom, Valentino Vail had leaned over the banister without warning and loosed a cataract of orange vomit. The stairway was the usual open s...
Nothing could quiet a happy crowd of kids like Mr. Holgren's unannounced appearance -- he loved superintending; he was made for it. So when he marched in that morning with a determined look on his fac...
Many a night I woke to the murmer of paper and knew (Dad) was up, sitting in the kitchen with frayed King James - oh, but he worked that book; he held to it like a rope ladder.
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