People who think dying is the is the worst thing don't know a thing about life.
My mother's life was way too heavy for me.
My body might be a slave, but not my mind. For you, it's the other way round.
It was the oldest sound there was. Souls flying away.
It was the in-between time, before day leaves and night comes, a time I’ve never been partial to because of the sadness that lingers in the space between going and coming.
It takes a bee 10,000,000 trips to collect enough nectar to make 1 pound of honey.
It is the peculiar nature of the world to go on spinning no matter what sort of heartbreak is happening.
In the photograph by my bed my other is perpetually smiling on me. I guess I have forgiven us both, although sometimes in the night my dreams will take me back to the sadness, and I have to wake up an...
In recent years my understanding of God had evolved into increasingly remote abstractions. I'd come to think of God in terms like Divine Reality, the Absolute, or the One who holds us in being. I do b...
If you must err, do so on the side of audacity.
I'd heard August say more than once, If you need something from somebody, always give that person a way to hand it to you. T. Ray needed a face-saving way to hand me over, and August was giving it to...
I wonder if that's the perennial story of writers: you find the true light, you lose the true light, you find it again. And maybe again.
I have one mind for the master to see. I have another mind for what I know is me.
I hadn't been out to the hives before, so to start off she gave me a lesson in what she called 'bee yard etiquette'. She reminded me that the world was really one bee yard, and the same rules work fin...
I don't hold to the idea that God causes suffering and crisis. I just know that those things come along and God uses them. We think life should be a nice, clean ascending line. But inevitably somethin...
I didn't see why loving someone had to have so much agony attached to it. It felt like a series of fresh cuts in the skin of my heart
How one minute she was talking to you and the next she had slipped into a private world where she turned her thoughts over and over, digesting stuff most people would choke on. I wanted to say, Teach...
How often do we do that, he wondered--look at someone and fail to see what's really there?
Goods and chattel. The words from the leather book came into my head. We were like the gold leaf mirror and the horse saddle. Not full-fledge people. I didn’t believe this, never had believed it a day...
For a moment I felt the quiet hungering thing that comes inside when you return to the place of your origins, and then the ache of mis-belonging.