There is something in every one of you that waits and listens for the sound of the genuine in yourself. It is the only true guide you will ever have. And if you cannot hear it, you will all of your life spend your days on the ends of strings that somebody else pulls.

Christmas is a mood, a quality, a symbol. It is never merely a fact.

Often, to be free means the ability to deal with the realities of one's own situation so as not to be overcome by them.

Community cannot for long feed on itself; it can only flourish with the coming of others from beyond, their unknown and undiscovered brothers.

Christmas is waiting to be born: in you, in me, in all mankind.

And this is the strangest of all paradoxes of the human adventure; we live inside all experience, but we are permitted to bear witness only to the outside. Such is the riddle of life and the story of the passing of our days.

During times of war, hatred becomes quite respectable even though it has to masquerade often under the guise of patriotism.