I do believe it is possible to create, even without ever writing a word or painting a picture, by simply molding one’s inner life. And that too is a deed.

Sometimes I try my hand at turning out small profundities and uncertain short stories, but I always end up with just one single word: God.

I don’t want to be anything special. I only want to try to be true to that in me which seeks to fulfill its promise.

I'm afraid I did not pray hard enough last night.

The more peace there is in us, the more peace there will be in our troubled world.

That fear of missing out on things makes you miss out on everything.

The fact is I don't lead a simple enough inner life. I indulge in excesses, bacchanalia of the spirit. Perhaps I identify too much with everything I read and study. Someone like Dostoevsky still shatters me.