Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you.

It is difficult to undo our own damage, and to recall to our presence that which we have asked to leave.

I am sorry I ran from you. I am still running, running from that knowledge, that eye, that love from which there is no refuge. For you meant only love, and love, and I felt only fear, and pain. So once in Israel love came to us incarnate, stood in the doorway between two worlds, and we were all afraid.

What a hideout: Holiness lies spread and borne over the surface of time and stuff like color.

I had been chipping at the world idly, and had by accident uncovered vast and labyrinthine further worlds within it.

The universe was not made in jest but in solemn incomprehensible earnest.

We wake, if we ever wake at all, to mystery, rumors of death, beauty, violence.