Real, Sane, Mature Love—the Kind That Pays

God Isn't Interested In Watching You Enact Some Performance Of Personality In Order To Comply With Some Crackpot Notion You Have About How A Spiritual Person Looks Or Behaves. We All Seem To Get This Idea That, In Order To Be Sacred, We Have To Make Some Massive, Dramatic Change Of Character, That We Have To Renounce Our Individuality.

Beauty Is Not Required. Beauty Is Accuracy's Distraction.

Prayer Is A Relationship; Half The Job Is Mine. If I Want Transformation, But Can't Even Be Bothered To Articulate What, Exactly, I'm Aiming For, How Will It Ever Occur? Half The Benefit Of Prayer Is In The Asking Itself, In The Offering Of A Clearly Posed And Well-considered Intention. If You Don't Have This, All Your Pleas And Desires Are Boneless, Floppy, Inert; They Swirl At Your Feet In A Cold Fog And Never Lift.

I Have A Rigid Self-accountability. You Have To Work Hard.

But He [depression] Just Gives Me That Dark Smile, Settles Into My Favorite Chair, Puts His Feet On My Table And Lights A Cigar, Filling The Place With His Awful Smoke. Loneliness Watches And Sighs, Then Climbs Into My Bed And Pulls The Covers Over Himself, Fully Dressed, Shoes And All. He's Going To Make Me Sleep With Him Again Tonight, I Just Know It.