Life is like a hammer, it can either break you or shape you into something magnificent.

He's so in denial that he's holed up inside a bomb shelter inside the closet.

The journey is difficult, immense. We will travel as far as we can, but we cannot in one lifetime see all that we would like to see or to learn all that we hunger to know.

It is in plunging into the stream of life itself and entering into the deepest involvement with the values that confront us, exercising our wills to the utmost-to the breaking point-that we find God in the very extremity of the battle.

We've got to hammer it out.

When we change the shape of the Land, we alter the contents and contexts of our collective, familial, and personal memories. Yet, stories can preserve both mythic and familiar elements of geography even when the physical features are forgotten, buried, or obliterated. And more than this: the stories can bring these elements back. If the Land can be preserved long enough for its stories to be told, and retold, perhaps we all — as custodians of both place and memory — stand a chance at real preservation.