I Do Assume That A

People Talk About How Wonderful The World Seems To Children, And That's True Enough. But Children Think They Will Grow Into It And Understand It, And I Know Very Well That I Will Not, And Would Not If I Had A Dozen Lives.

There Are A Thousand Thousand Reasons To Live This Life, Everyone Of Them Sufficient

I Experience Religious Dread Whenever I Find Myself Thinking That I Know The Limits Of God’s Grace, Since I Am Utterly Certain It Exceeds Any Imagination A Human Being Might Have Of It. God Does, After All, So Love The World.

There Are Worries That Seem To Me Sustained By The Love Of Worry. For Example, That People Are Reading From Screens, Or Listening To Recorded Books. Why Scold The Impulse To Enjoy Language And Narrative In Whatever Form It Takes?

We Experience Pain And Difficulty As Failure Instead Of Saying, I Will Pass Through This, Everyone I Have Ever Admired Has Passed Through This, Music Has Come Out Of It, Literature Has Come Out Of It. We Should Think Of Our Humanity As A Privilege.