An artist is someone who cannot rest, who can never rest as long as there is one suffering creature in the world.

The world of science lives fairly comfortably with paradox. We know that light is a wave, and also that light is a particle. The discoveries made in the infinitely small world of particle physics indicate randomness and chance, and I do not find it any more difficult to live with the paradox of a universe of randomness and chance and a universe of pattern and purpose than I do with light as a wave and light as a particle. Living with contradiction is nothing new to the human being.

We know you have a great mind and all, Mother, but you don’t have much sense.

A book, too, can be a star, a living fire to lighten the darkness, leading out into the expanding universe.

If I have something I want to say that is too difficult for adults to swallow, then I will write it in a book for children.

Darkness was and darkness was good. As with light. Light and Darkness dancing together, born together, born of each other, neither preceding, neither following, both fully being, in joyful rhythm.

If she could give love to IT perhaps it would shrivel up and die, for she was sure that IT could not withstand love.