We wake, if we ever wake at all, to mystery, rumors of death, beauty, violence.

It could be that our faithlessness is a cowering cowardice born of our very smallness, a massive failure of imagination. . . . If we were to judge nature by common sense or likelihood, we wouldn't believe the world existed.

There is a certain age at which a child looks at you in all earnestness and delivers a long, pleased speech in all the true inflections of spoken English, but with not one recognizable syllable.

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.

The dedicated life is worth living. You must give with your whole heart.