If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery of things.
In the realist, faith is not born from miracles, but miracles from faith.
I sometimes think love consists precisely of the voluntary gift by the loved object of the right to tyrannize over it.
There is immeasurably more left inside than what comes out in words.
Everything will come in due course, if you have the gumption to wait for it.
The world stands on absurdities, and without them perhaps nothing at all would happen.