There is a tremendous relief in knowing that {God's} love to me is utterly realistic, based at every point on prior knowledge of the worst about me, so that no discovery now can disillusion Him about me, in the way I am so often disillusioned about myself, and quench His determination to bless me.

I think every human being knows how to hate. Because if they didn't know how to hate how to hate they wouldn't know how to love.

She was like a lone angel floating above the surface of the earth, laughing with delight because she could fly but crying out of loneliness.

I always knew that I was called to do something. I didn't know what, but I finally rationalized after I met Martin - and it took a lot of praying to discover this - that this was probably what God had called me to do: to marry him.

I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say.

Generally, the shaking is consciously felt in its positive aspects — as the wonderful new heaven and earth which love with its miracle and mystery has suddenly produced. Love is the answer, we sing. Our Western culture seems to be engaged in a romantic - albeit desperate - conspiracy to enforce the illusion that that is all there is to eros.