"This is fish number six hundred and forty-one in a lifetime of goldfish. My parents bought me the first one to teach me about loving and caring for another living breathing creature of God. Six hundred and forty fish later the only thing I know is that everything you love will die."
"I've met God across his long walnut desk with all his diplomas hanging on the wall behind him, and God asks me, "Why?" Why did I cause so much pain? Didn't I realize that each of us is a sacred, unique snowflake of special unique specialness? Can't I see how we're all manifestations of love? I look at God behind his desk, taking notes on a pad, but God's got this all wrong. We are not special. We are not crap or trash either. We just are. We just are and what happens just happens. and God says, "No that's not right." Yeah. Well. Whatever. You can't teach God anything."
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