What I have written is but a fleeting intimation of the outside of what one man sees and may tell about the path he walks. No one shares the secret of a life; no one enters into the heart of the mystery.

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

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.

There are two questions that we have to ask ourselves. The first is 'Where am I going?' and the second is 'Who will go with me?'

Life wears down the edges of the mind.

A dream is the bearer of a new possibility, the enlarged horizon, the great hope.

Do not be silent; there is no limit to the power that may be released through you.