Two perspectives...

“How big do you think God is?” he asked his grandmother. “Well,” she said, “his hands are big enough to hold the entire universe—all of the planets and oceans and stars.” The whole universe? She could see his young mind reeling. “How big do you think God is?” she asked. “Bigger than my dad, but if I curled up in his lap I would be able to press my head against his chest and hear his heart."

Things in boxes...

The movers told her to make a list of her belongings before placing them in boxes, tape sealing the seams. Before handing it over, she looked at the list—measuring spoons, perfume bottles, photograph albums, spine-worn journals, threadbare sleep shirts—a detailed account of her earthly possessions. It was then she realized these things didn't hold any value, and the things she did value could never fit in a box.

The Anna Karenina Principle...

It was their first date. Complete with sudden lulls in conversation and littered with the getting to know you back & forth. They sipped their drinks and laughed. So far, so good. She wanted kids. She was impressively intelligent and driven. She could cook. Check. Check. Check. “Do you like animals?” he asked. “Why yes, I love cats,” she said. He sat there and finished his Jack and Coke, interlacing his fingers and lowering his voice, leaning further across the table. “Hmm…well, do you believe in the Anna Karenina Principle?” he asked. “I believe it holds some merit, but overall, no. No, I don’t,” she said. “I do. Very much so,” he said. And with that he wished her well as he dug in his pocket for exact change and excused himself from the table. Why waste his time with something that was doomed to fail?