Agonies are one of my changes of garments; I do not ask the wounded person how he feels . . . . I myself become the wounded person, My hurt turns livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.

God gave people tear ducts for a good reason, and folks shouldn't be too stubborn to use them.

She cried easily. Evidence that she felt much, and most often for other people. A rare and beauty filled gift.

As strange as it sounds, broken people are fixed by other broken people. It's God's economy.

Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes. This... is goodbye. But not our last hello.

I love them without trying to change them. I look at their suffering, their hopelessness, and while I'd like to wave a hand and fix it, I can't, so I do what I can... Climb down in their misery and love them where they are... People would much rather die holding someone's hand than live alone.

I would go to the deeps a hundred times to cheer a downcast spirit. It is good for me to have been afflicted, that I might know how to speak a word in season to one that is weary.

"Adam... My soul is so knit to yours that it is but a divided life I live without you. And this moment, now you are with me, and I feel that our hearts are filled with the same love..." What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life — to strengthen each other in all labour, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be one with each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?

I cannot pretend to feel impartial about the colours. I rejoice with the brilliant ones, and am genuinely sorry for the poor browns.

As a culture, we seem to have an intolerance for suffering; we tend to want those who have experienced a loss of any kind to get on with their lives as quickly as possible. Often, by minimizing the impact of significant losses, pathologizing those whose reactions are intense, and applauding those who seem relatively unaffected by tragic events, we encourage the inhibition of our own grief.

Perhaps that is the only cure for jealousy, to realize that the people we resent and envy for having what we lack, probably have wounds and scars of their own. They may even be envying us.

Instead of exhausting ourselves trying to reshape the world to fit our dreams, we are better off using our strength to comfort one another in a world that is almost certain to mock our dreams and break our hearts.