We didn’t talk much, and the silence hung like a silk curtain, light and lovely.

Maybe that’s what love is—sacrificing yourself to save another, taking the insult or taking the hit.

Love spills out of these people. That’s what I want. Settling for anything less is a lie.

People forget your face after a book tour or an infrequent appearance on Letterman, but put your face on your books and you’re handing them your life. They presume to know what you think or...

Self-protection keeps you from love, Mr. Knightley-all love. I am so sad at how I’ve kept them at a distance-the Muirs, Alex, Father John, Kyle, Hannah…Anyone and everyone who has ever stood by me. I...

My new favorite title is How Jane Austen Ruined My Life. I don’t have the courage to read it, though. I’m afraid to discover she’s ruined mine as well.

How can I not believe that there is a God who exists and loves, when the people before me are infused with that love and pour it out daily?

The day we forget the horror, Sam, we will repeat it. Never forget your past. It will make you less human, less than human.