An Inuit hunter asked the local missionary priest: If I did not know about God and sin, would I go to hell? No, said the priest, not if you did not know. Then why, asked the Inuit earnestly, did you tell me?

Hone and spread your spirit till you yourself are a sail, whetted, translucent, broadside to the merest puff.

We are here to bring to consciousness the beauty and power that are around us and to praise the people who are here with us.

I am a fugitive and a vagabond, a sojourner seeking signs.

Theirs is the mystery of continuous creation and all that providence implies: the uncertainty of vision, the horror of the fixed, the dissolution of the present, the intricacy of beauty, the pressure of fecundity, the elusiveness of the free, and the flawed nature of perfection.

We live half our waking lives and all of our sleeping lives in some private, useless, and insensible waters we never mention or recall.

If we listened to our intellect, we’d never have a love affair... or go into business. You’ve got to jump off cliffs and build your wings on the way down.