But it can also happen, if will and grace are joined, that as I contemplate the tree I am drawn into a relation, and the tree ceases to be an It. . . . Does the tree then have consciousness, similar to our own? I have no experience of that. But thinking that you have brought this off in your own case, must you again divide the indivisible? What I encounter is neither the soul of a tree nor a dryad, but the tree itself.

I think no human being can give more than this. Making life possible for the other, if only for a moment.

Everyone has in him something precious that is in no one else.

God is the "mysterium tremendum," that appears and overthrows, but he is also the mystery of the self-evident, nearer to me than my I.

As long as the firmament of the You is spread over me, the tempests of causality cower at my heels, and whirl of doom congeals.

He who loves brings God and the World together.

All actual life is encounter.