That fierce imprisonment in the self is but the obverse of the self-giving which is absolute reality.

Certain things, if not seen as lovely or detestable, are not being correctly seen at all.

A spoiled saint, a Pharisee, an inquisitor, or a magician, makes better sport to Hell than a mere common tyrant or debauchee.

At the end of all things, the blessed will say, 'We never lived anywhere but in heaven.'

It's like the sound of a chuckle in the darkness. The sense that some shattering and disarming simplicity is the real answer.

To interest is the first duty of art; no other excellences will ever begin to compensate for failure in this.

Don't worry. If you really want to, you will Whether you'll like it when you do is another question.