“In the distance, I can see a storm coming in, the dark clouds and the lightning on the horizon moving towards me. I wait and I wait and I wait for the storm. And then it comes, and the rains wash a...”

“Life was like that- there would always be something scratching at the door. And whatever was scratching would just scratch and scratch until you opened the door.”

“Maybe it wasn't a good idea to rank the people in your life. That's not how the heart worked. The heart didn't make lists.”

“Grief was a terrible and beautiful thing.”

“And prayer? How could you pray to a God you wanted to hit?”

“The thing about tears is that they can be as quiet as a cloud floating across the desert sky.”

“All words are pegs to hang ideas on.”

“A word is not the same with one writer as it is with another. One tears it from his guts. The other pulls it out of his overcoat pocket.”

“No doubt I shall go on writing, stumbling across tundras of unmeaning, planting words like bloody flags in my wake....”