I sometimes imagine that as one grows older one comes to live a role which as a young person one merely 'played.

Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is the richness of self.

It always comes back to the same necessity: go deep enough and there is a bedrock of truth, however hard.

The more our bodies fail us, the more naked and more demanding is the spirit, the more open and loving we can become if we are not afraid of what we are and of what we feel. I am not a phoenix yet, but here among the ashes, it may be that the pain is chiefly that of new wings trying to push through.

life is always bringing unexpected gifts.

There the door is always open into the “holy” — growth, birth, death.

Inside my mother's death / I lay and could not breathe.