Gone. Vanished. Nothing left. Nothing said.

Attention shifted to him like sunflowers turning to the sun.

hills that stand soft and a sky that stands high and blue, and the sun setting behind a windmill, and always, always, hazy strings of mountains that fall and fall away on the horizon.

One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs, Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.

And that's the thing about people who mean everything they say. They think everyone else does too.

A man who has no conscience, no goodness, does not suffer.

Nothing good came free. Even love. You paid for all things. And if you were poor, suffering was your currency.

But time, it is like charm. You never have as much as you think.

The desert weed lives on, but the flower of spring blooms and wilts.

I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded; not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.

Quiet is peace. Tranquility. Quiet is turning down the volume knob on life. Silence is pushing the off button. Shutting it down. All of it.

That which can be destroyed by the truth should be.

In a myriad of ways you tell one truth.

You don't trade in the devil you know for the one you don't know.

You don´t need internet connection to connect to God.

What makes a man's 80 year-old Irish uncle skip like a little boy? "Me Father is very fond of me!

The Universe knows itself and expands itself through me.

Well, when I moved to L.A. at 17, I had just come out of high school. I grew up and went to public school in Boston.

Many fathers go their entire lives without announcing how sexy their son's old girlfriends are.

Pretension may sit still, but cannot act. Pretension never feigned an act of real greatness. Pretension never wrote an Iliad, nordrove back Xerxes, nor christianized the world, nor abolished slavery.

Justice, even if slow, is sure.