Some people feel guilty about their anxieties and regard them as a defect of faith but they are afflictions, not sins. Like all afflictions, they are, if we can so take them, our share in the passion of Christ.

From the elevator, Mabel watched the old woman's bare feet hobbling away, a trail of salt and the lace hem of her nightgown left in her wake like sea foam.

Finally, we do become wise, but then it's too late

I really look at my childhood as being one giant rusty tuna can that I continue to recycle in many different shapes.

Written By Augusten Burroughs

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