There Are So Many Books I Mean

I Wish We Had More Visible Christian And Catholic Leaders Who Talked About Love.

To Write Something, You Have To Risk Making A Fool Of Yourself.

Evil Is Always Possible. Goodness Is A Difficulty.

And So This Young One, This Young One Whom I Had So Loved, I Had To Forsake, No Matter How Broken My Heart, No Matter How Lonely My Soul, No Matter How Bruised My Intellect And Spirit.

It Was As If This Night Were Only One Of Thousands Of Nights, World Without End, Night Curving Into Night To Make A Great Arching Line Of Which I Couldn’t See The End, A Night In Which I Roamed Alone Under Cold, Mindless Stars.