We forgive when we give up attachment to our wounds.

We are only alive to the degree that we can let ourselves be moved.

Irony has only emergency use. Carried over time it is the voice of the trapped who have come to enjoy their cage.

We forgive when we give up attachment to our wounds.

What is it about a work of art, even when it is bought and sold in the market, that makes us distinguish it from . . . pure commodities? A work of art is a gift, not a commodity. . . works of art exist simultaneously in two “economies”, a market economy and a gift economy. Only one of these is essential, however: a work of art can survive without the market, but where there is no gift, there is no art.

The gift finds the man attractive who stands with an empty bowl he does not own.

The passage into mystery always refreshes. If, when we work, we can look once a day upon the face of mystery, then our labor satisfies. We are lightened when our gifts rise from pools we cannot fathom. Then we know they are not a solitary egotism and they are inexhaustible.