“...even a poisoned, desolate childhood can be missed.”

“What does it mean to be Catholic and not a Catholic? I feel adrift, homeless. My Catholic imagination allows me to see the soul as a lit breath, seeking the divine. It persists.”

“I'm a writer of faith who worries about the intolerance of religion. I look at the past and fear we haven't learned from it. I believe that humanity is capable of evil as well as great acts of courage and goodness. I have hope. Deep down, I believe in the human spirit, although sometimes that belief is shaken.”

“Even if their supplies of love are finite, they've figured out that life is, too, and they're no longer rationing.”

“Weakness, like not being able to bury the past. Weakness, like not giving up hope when you know you should.”

“Love is a luxury. It's something that people are allowed to indulge in when they're not simply trying to survive and keep other people alive.”

“...even a poisoned, desolate childhood can be missed.”

“If home isn't a place, what is it?''A feeling.”

“Our stories are what we have,” Our Good Mother says. “Our stories preserve us. we give them to one another. Our stories have value. Do you understand?”

“I feel too much. It's like being drummed to death from within. You know?”

“But there it is: Everyone is alone, for life, and maybe that's not such a bad thing.”