Now God be thanked that the name of a hill is such music, that the name of a river can heal.

St. Francis of Assisi taught me that there is a wound in the Creation and that the greatest use we could make of our lives was to ask to be made a healer of it.

It is my belief that the only power which can resist the power of fear is the power of love.

There is a lovely road that runs from Ixopo into the hills.

In the deserted harbour there is yet water that laps against the quays. In the dark and silent forest, there is a leaf that falls. Behind the polished panelling the white ant eats away the wood. Nothing is ever quiet, except for fools

Although nothing has come yet, something is here already.

There are voices crying what must be done, a hundred, a thousand voices. But what do they help if one seeks for counsel, for one cries this, and one cries that, and another cries something that is neither this nor that.