That deed which in our guilt we today call weakness, will appear tomorrow as an essential link in the complete chain of Man.

We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way, begin no day where we have ended another, and no sunrise finds us where left by sunset. Even while the earth sleeps we travel. We are the seeds of that tenacious plant, and it is in our ripeness and our fullness of heart that we are given to the wind to be scattered.

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And what is it to cease breathing but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered? Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountaintop,then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shal claim your limbs,then shall you truly dance.

Work is love made visable.

If it were not for guests all houses would be graves.

For what is prayer but the expansion of your self into the living ether?

Wit is often a mask. If you tear it you will find either genius irritated or cleverness juggling.