I Believe In A Magnificent God.

Moss Grows Where Nothing Else Can Grow. It Grows On Bricks. It Grows On Tree Bark And Roofing Slate. It Grows In The Arctic Circle And In The Balmiest Tropics; It Also Grows On The Fur Of Sloths, On The Backs Of Snails, On Decaying Human Bones. ... It Is A Resurrection Engine. A Single Clump Of Mosses Can Lie Dormant And Dry For Forty Years At A Stretch, And Then Vault Back Again Into Life With A Mere Soaking Of Water.

There's A Wonderful Old Italian Joke About A Poor Man Who Goes To Church Every Day And Prays Before The Statue Of A Great Saint,'dear Saint-please, Please, Please...give Me The Grace To Win The Lottery.' This Lament Goes On For Months. Finally The Exasperated Statue Come To Life, Looks Down At The Begging Man And Says In Weary Disgust,'my Son-please, Please, Please...buy A Ticket.

In A World Of Disorder And Disaster And Fraud, Sometimes Only Beauty Can Be Trusted.

There's Only One Problem With The Hero's Journey, It Never Included Women.

My Life Acccomplishments? Sanity, And You