The arrogance of poets is only a defense; doubt gnaws the greatest among them; they need our testimony to escape despair.

Tell me what you read and I'll tell you who you are is true enough, but I'd know you better if you told me what you reread.

Human love is often but the encounter of two weaknesses.

The Eucharist engages us unreservedly; it is a pact of love, an alliance signed in the deeper recesses of our being. All our potentialities are called upon to warrant the protection and fulfillment of this pact.

Where does discipline end? Where does cruelty begin? Somewhere between these, thousands of children inhabit a voiceless hell.

The man who partakes in the breaking of the bread dares to build his house on the very core of love. He becomes, as it were, Godlike, but regardless of the strength he derives from it, his free will remains. We are always free to disown this immense grace, to abuse it. The Greatest Love may be betrayed. Fed on the Living Bread, we nevertheless conceal a part of ourselves which longs for swine's food.

A good critic is the sorcerer who makes some hidden spring gush forth unexpectedly under our feet.