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I'd make a bad preacher.

I preached as never sure to preach again, And as a dying man to dying men.

I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all.

If I had only one sermon to preach it would be a sermon against pride.

The process was remarkably cathartic. I'd sit and listen to my father's voice - having not heard some of these tapes for 30 years and hearing his voice laying me down for a nap, our giggles and cooking dinner - and I remembered all those wonderful days. Normal days.

My father used to get me to read the newspaper to him, as if I was a radio. I would stand there and read the 'Times.'

Do not let Sunday be taken from you. If your soul has no Sunday, it becomes an orphan.

Sunday, I go to church; I take the day off. I rest.