“He knew that there was no quick comfort for emotions like those. They were deeper and they did not need to be told. They were felt.”

“My hands were steady,
My eyes were clear and bright.
My walk had purpose,
My steps were quick and light.
And I held firm to what I felt was right.
Like a rock.”

“There was something about our silence that made me comfortable. He wasn't talking to me, but I didn't feel ignored. I felt we were part of the same moment, and it didn't need to be defined.”

“As always at these times when he felt really in need of God the front of his mind was serene, but the deeper part, where faith did constant battle with doubt, was terrified that there would be no answer.”

“He flowed deeper and deeper into himself, wrapped in the comforting strength of hate.”

“He wept, and it felt as if the tears were cleansing him, as if his body needed to empty itself.”

“The taste of the usual was like cinders in his mouth, and there were moments when he felt as if he were being buried alive under his future.”

“Once upon a time," he said out loud to the darkness. He said these words because they were the best, the most powerful words that he knew and just the saying of them comforted him.”

“Here's my throat. I carry no weapon. You could have killed me at any time, even when I knew you were my enemy. Why did you need to deceive me into trusting you first? Were you afraid that death wouldn't bother me enough, unless I felt betrayed?”

“He knew how to say many false things that were like true sayings.”