I Started Having Doubts Right On Top

When Experience Flies Into Realms That Language Cannot Touch, Honesty Demands Beyond-language.

The Fundamentalists Of Every Faith Remain Blind To The Truth That The “sigh Within The Prayer Is The Same In The Heart Of The Christian, The Muslim, And The Jew.” I Have Seen This Unity With My Eyes, Heard It With My Ears, Felt It With All My Being.

We Hear Nothing So Clearly As What Comes Out Of Silence.

Fiction Writing Feels More Honest To Me.

There Are Many Things Worth Telling That Are Not Quite Narrative. And Eternity Itself Possesses No Beginning, Middle Or End. Fossils, Arrowheads, Castle Ruins, Empty Crosses: From The Parthenon To The Bo Tree To A Grown Man's Or Woman's Old Stuffed Bear, What Moves Us About Many Objects Is Not What Remains But What Has Vanished. There Comes A Time, Thanks To Rivers, When A Few Beautiful Old Teeth Are All That Remain Of The Two-hundred-foot Spires Of Life We Call Trees. There Comes A River, Whose Current Is Time, That Does A Similar Sculpting In The Mind.