Make me, oh God, the prey of the Lion, ere you make the rabbit my prey

God has created several doors which open onto truth. He opens them to all those who knock on them with the hand of faith.

Much of your pain is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.

The first thought of God was an angel. The first word of God was a man

Oh, Lord God, have mercy on me and mend my broken wings.

Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, We fell them down and turn them into paper, That we may record our emptiness.

For life goes not backward, nor tarries with yesterday.