The trees come up to my window like the yearning voice of the dumb earth

Saltwater heals, healing referring to its various forms; tears, cleanses and heals the soul; sweat, cleanses through labor; the ocean, heals in all its forms.

The infinite being has assumed unto himself the mystery of finitude. And in him who is love the finite and the infinite are made one.

Death is turning out the lamp because the dawn has appeared.

The water vessel, taken as a vessel only, raises the question, "Why does it exist at all?" Through its fitness of construction, it offers the apology for its existence. But where it is a work of beauty it has no question to answer; it has nothing to do, but to be.

God is neither manifest nor hidden; He is neither revealed nor unrevealed; there are no words to tell that which He is. He is without form, without quality, without decay.

The real frienship is like fluorescence, it shines better when everything has darken.