My work is the world. Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird - equal seekers of sweetness. Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.

The end of life has its own nature, also worth our attention.

The world is: fun, and familiar, and healthful, and unbelievably refreshing, and lovely. And it is the theater of the spiritual; it is the multiform utterly obedient to a mystery.

Each body is a lion of courage, something precious of the earth.

Look for verbs of muscle, adjectives of exactitude.

To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.

I think one thing is that prayer has become more useful, interesting, fruitful, and... almost involuntary in my life.