No soul can be forever banned, Eternally bereft, Whoever falls from God's right hand Is caught into his left.

I (God) will leave man to make the fateful guess, Will leave him torn between the no and yes, Leave him unresting till he rests in me, Drawn upward by the choice that makes him free, Leave him in tragic loneliness to choose, With all in life to win or all to lose.

At the heart of the cyclone tearing the sky And flinging the cloud and the towers by, Is a place of central calm: So here in the roar of mortal things, I have a place where my spirit sings, In the hollow of God's Palm.

There is a destiny which makes us brothers; none goes his way alone. All that we send into the lives of others comes back into our own.

Defeat may serve as well as victory to shake the soul and let the glory out.

Three were the fates. Poverty that chains; gray drudgery that grinds the hope away, and gaping ignorance that starves the soul.

I fear the vermin that shall undermineSenate and citadel and school and shrine.