Did it all for someone — or something — and never wavered.

Johannes Kepler wrote a short story about a witch who sends her son to the Moon; years after the manuscript leaked, his own mother was on trial as a witch.

In 1922, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle explained that Houdini's dead Jewish mother must have learned English in heaven.

One night in October 1537, a French army surgeon ran out of the boiling oil he was supposed to pour into gunshot wounds, and improvised a dressing of egg yolk, rose oil, and turpentine.

He was thrown out of a Trappist monastery with tuberculosis at thirty-five, and spent the next sixty years alone on a plot outside Madrid, building a cathedral with factory-reject bricks and pillars cast inside oil drums.

He walked into the North Sea at night until the water reached his neck, and sang psalms until dawn.

What happens when a monk so incompetent he nearly wasn't ordained starts doing something no one can explain or contain?

What kind of architect designs a church by hanging it upside down from a shed ceiling?

In 1220, when a wolf was eating the citizens of Gubbio, a barefoot friar walked out alone to negotiate terms.

In 1602 the Jesuits sent a former soldier to walk from India to China in disguise to settle a geography argument — what could possibly go wrong?

What does a 59-year-old Baptist preacher do when a face appears in a smudge of paint on his fingertip and tells him to start painting?

What does a sixteen-year-old do when his mother hides his clothes to keep him from following his father to the executioner?

What are the odds the first autobiography in English survived because a colonel hunting a ping-pong ball was talked out of burning it?