Grief is great. Only you and I in this land know that yet. Let us be good to one another.

Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything.

I thought I could describe a state; make a map of sorrow. Sorrow, hoever, turns out to be not a state but a process.

We were promised sufferings. They were part of the program. We were even told, 'Blessed are they that mourn,' and I accept it. I've got nothing that I hadn't bargained for. Of curse it is different when the thing happens to oneself, not to others, and in reality, not imagination.

I thought I could describe a state; make a map of sorrow. Sorrow, however, turns out to be not a state, but a process. It needs not a map, but a history, and if I don't stop writing that history at some quite arbitrary point, there's no reason why I should ever stop.

My idea of God is not a divine idea. It has to be shattered time after time. He shatters it Himself.