Whatever You Say, Say Nothing.

He Looks Like The Sort Of Man Who Can't Afford To Leave, And Doesn't Want To Stay, And So He Is Doing Both At Once.

He Told Me Once That There Was No Better Faith Than A Wounded Faith And Sometimes I Wonder If That Is What He Was Doing All Along --trying To Wound His Faith In Order To Test It--and I Was Just Another Stone In The Way Of His God.

And I Suddenly Think, As I Look Across The Table At Him, That These Are The Days As They Will Be. This Is The Future As We See It. The Swerve And The Static. The Confidence And The Doubt.

You Can Count The Dead, But You Can't Count The Cost. We've Got No Math For Heaven.

I Sit There Thinking About How Much Courage It Takes To Live An Ordinary Life.