Truly amazing, what people can get used to, as long as there are a few compensations.

The heart of Jesus glowed, because it was holy. Holy things glowed in general.

She had no images of this love. She could offer no anecdotes. It was a belief rather than a memory.

Things written down can cause a great deal of harm. All too often, people don't consider that.

He has to find more and better ways of occupying his time. His time, what a bankrupt idea, as if he's been given a box of time belonging to him alone, stuffed to the brim with hours and minutes that he can spend like money. Trouble is, the box has holes in it and the time is running out, no matter what he does with it.

The truth, it seems, is not just what you find when you open a door: it is itself a door, which the poet is always on the verge of going through.

As we know from the study of history, no new system can impose itself upon a previous one without incorporating many of the elements to be found in the latter.