You're drinking in the joy of life,' Bear told her when she tried to explain why she was laughing. 'There's so much opportunity for drinking deeply of it, and we very rarely do it. When you do, it makes you feel alive all over.

My parents reverted to their Catholic faith through the charismatic renewal, so I was raised charismatic.

My skin's too white. she said. Says who, Snow White? he said, touching her cheek lightly with one hand.

Bear heard Rose in the background saying, 'Why thank you, Mr. Fish.' 'Good redhead. Helpful redhead,' Fish returned.

His eyes gravitated towards the wall-to-wall bookshelf at one end of the room. 'You folks like books, I see.

Every once in a while you just have to decide to do something very crazy and very right--just to dare yourself to live. I don't mean doing something stupid and destructive--just something fun and good and beautiful.

She couldn’t picture anyone falling madly in love with such a person as Fish. What a name, Fish...Fish: think cold, slippery, detached. Benedict: think dry scholarly monk from the Dark Ages. Denniston: think English preparatory school, stolid country squire. Nothing about his name sounded the least bit romantic.

The sense of danger made her lift up her head higher. There were battles coming. But life was meant to be a battle, wasn't it? There was nothing to fear.

Can you imagine anything more tragic?' Rose asked. 'To be born a princess --native and to the manor born-- and then to forget who you are and settle for being something horrible like an--an accountant!

Blanche, prosaic in a pale yellow sweater and blue jeans, was wondering again if anything mattered—-life, faith--specifically, finishing homework assignments.

For years, we in publishing have been hearing from Catholic readers that they really yearn for Catholic fiction.

Have you ever felt that there was something going on in life that not everyone was aware of?

There's something strange about you- she started to say. Oh, well, thanks! he chuckled, his brown eyes twinkling at her.

There was a silence. Then Paul looked at Alex. 'She knows Chesterton.' 'She lives,' said Alex.