We are ants on the carcass of the world, spawned out of nothing, going busily nowhere. One of us dies, the others crawl over us to the pickings. - Morris West

He took her in in his arms and kissed her. The coffeepot boiled over and they laughed and laughed with the simple foolish joy of being alive.

If this were not love, then Landon was ignorant indeed. And if love were a folly, then he was content to be a fool.

There is no passion in your life, my son. You have never loved a woman, nor hated a man, nor pitied a child. You have withdrawn yourself too long and you are a stranger in the human family. You have asked nothing and given nothing. You have never known the dignity of need nor gratitude for a suffering shared. This is your sickness. This is the cross you have fashioned for your own shoulders. This is where your doubts begin and your fears too – because a man who cannot love his fellows cannot love God either.