He's not a safe safe or a tame God, securely lodged behind the bars of a distant Heaven; He has the most annoying manner of showing up when we least want Him; of confronting us in the strangest ways.

Die Bilder, die seine lebhafte Schilderung in ihrer Fantasie wachriefen, waren verführerischer als eine Tasse heiße Schokolade nach einem langen Spaziergang im Schnee. Wie konnte er es wagen!?

If it's any consolation, Princess, I think he's a supercilious, salacious sap.""You've been reading the dictionary!""My only hope of comprehending your conversation, my petite sesquipedalian.

The beauty and mystery of this world only emerges through affection, attention, interest and compassion . . . open your eyes wide and actually see this world by attending to its colors, details and irony.

I need a God who is bigger and more nimble and mysterious than what I could understand and contrive. Otherwise it can feel like I am worshipping nothing more than my own ability to understand the divine.

Tonight I’ve been dealing with a known killer, a male whore, a scam artist and now I’ve graduated to talking to a mayor. Who’s next? The President of the National Association of Rodents?

What I have written is but a fleeting intimation of the outside of what one man sees and may tell about the path he walks. No one shares the secret of a life; no one enters into the heart of the mystery.

No. No, I don't believe you'd betray me with her. I don't believe you'd cheat on me. But I'm afraid, and I'm sick in my heart that you might look at her, then at me. And regret.

Already, Seattle is taking hold of her. She still holds Sedona in the dry tan of her skin and in her hair, but the fine mist of the Northwest is making its way to places she didn’t know were parched.

No need to feel guilty if you can't be a good man all the time. But anytime your heart is feeling so eager to do even a small good deed, then it might be a good chance for you…to be a better man.

As a rule, the more bizarre a thing is the less mysterious it proves to be. It is your commonplace, featureless crimes which are really puzzling, just as a commonplace face is the most difficult to identify.

Once she had thought that she might discover some key to her mother if only she could get her likeness right, but she has since learned that the mysteries of another person only deepen, the longer one looks.

At the witching hour, the city was totally silent. Only the wind of portent blew through the gathered council of whispering brick chimneys on the rooftops, delivering the hand that would write upon the wall.

Meaning, yes -- I don't really exist except on the page or in the back of your brain. But if you think it's weird a fictional character's telling this story, you ain't seen what happened, yet.

I had a dream about you. We were shoveling dollar bills and used diapers and laughing like children. I was dancing like I had a fog machine in my pants, and I did, which is my moves were so mysterious.