Life itself is a haphazard, untidy, messy affair.

Advent is a time of waiting, of expectation, of silence. Waiting for our Lord to be born. A pregnant woman is so happy, so content. She lives in such a garment of silence, and it is as though she were listening to hear the stir of life within her. One always hears that stirring compared to the rustling of a bird in the hand. But the intentness which which one awaits such stirring is like nothing so much as a blanket of silence.

There is plenty to do, for each one of us, working on our own hearts, changing our own attitudes, in our own neighborhoods.

Too much praise makes you feel you must be doing something terribly wrong.

Everything a baptized person does each day should be directly or indirectly related to the corporal and spiritual works of mercy.

The anarchist philosophy is that the new social order is to be built up by groupings of men together in communities - whether in communities of work or communities of culture or communities of artists - but in communities.

The only answer in this life, to the loneliness we are all bound to feel, is community.