“My friends like to tell each other that I am not really a born-again Christian. They think of me more along the lines of that old Jonathan Miller routine, where he said, ‘I’m not really a Jew—I’m Jew-ish.” They think I’m Christian-ish. But I’m not. I’m just a bad Christian. A bad born-again Christian.”
“And soon my prayers were answered, first when patience miraculously descended like soft, chick-yellow parachute silk. Before, I had been fretting and pacing while waiting to hear from the doctor. But patience is when God—or something—makes the now a little roomier.”
From Plan B:
“I think that by kindergarten, the only thing that could have helped me was a nice refreshing drink. If you had just given me a flask, I could have handled things a lot better.”
“[T]his is how we make important changes—barely, poorly, slowly. And still he [Jesus] raises his fist in triumph.”
“[W]hen we get to heaven, we will discover that the appearance of our butts and our skin was 127th on the list of what mattered on this earth.”
“Why couldn’t Jesus command us to obsess about everything, to try to control and manipulate people, to try not to breathe at all, or to pay attention, stomp away to brood when people annoy us, and then eat a big bag of Hershey’s Kisses in bed? Maybe in some translations, he does.”
No comments:
Post a Comment