To preserve the silence within--amid all the noise. To remain open and quiet, a moist humus in the fertile darkness where the rain falls and the grain ripens--no matter how many tramp across the parade ground in whirling dust under an arid sky.

The life of simplicity is simple, but it opens to us a book in which we never get beyond the first syllable.

Time goes by, reputation increases, ability declines.

If only I may grow: firmer, simpler, quieter, warmer.

Forgiving is forgetting, in spite of remembering.

Acts of violence-- Whether on a large or a small scale, the bitter paradox: the meaningfulness of death--and the meaninglessness of killing.

We cannot afford to forget any experience, not even the most painful.