Boast is always a cry of despair, except in the young it is a cry of hope.

It was a morning in early summer. A silver haze shimmered and trembled over the lime trees. The air was laden with their fragrance. The temperature was like a caress. I remember - I need not recall - that I climbed up a tree stump and felt suddenly immersed in Itness. I did not call it by that name. I had no need for words. It and I were one.

Miracles happen to those who believe in them. Otherwise why does not the Virgin Mary appear to Lamaists, Mohammedans, or Hindus who have never heard of her.

When everything else physical and mental seems to diminish, the appreciation of beauty is on the increase.

Miracles happen to those who believe in them.

Between truth and the search for it, I choose the second.

Government lasts as long as the under-taxed can defend themselves against the over-taxed.