“You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you. It is easy to say you believe a rope to be strong and sound as long as you are merely using it to cord a box. But suppose you had to hang by that rope over a precipice. Wouldn't you then first discover how much you really trusted it?”
Written as a series of private reflections, this work documents the author's journey through intense sorrow, doubt, and spiritual questioning after the loss of his wife. The narrative moves from raw pain and confusion to a tentative, hard-won acceptance, examining how grief reshapes memory, faith, and the sense of self. It is a candid account of the psychological and emotional landscape of bereavement, offering no easy answers but a profound meditation on love and loss. more
“Just trust me, Nina.” “I wouldn’t trust you to tie my shoes without stealing the laces, Kaz.”
“Few delights can equal the mere presence of one whom we trust utterly.”
“You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment unless you trust enough.”
“I never trust people with no appetite. It's like they're always holding something back on you.”
“I'm suspicious of people who don't like dogs, but I trust a dog when it doesn't like a person.”