You are also the physician who must watch over yourself. But in the course of every illness there are many days in which the physician can do nothing but wait.

I don’t want to stand before you like a thing, shrewd, secretive. I want my own will, and I want simply to be with my will, as it goes toward action. And in the silent, sometimes hardly moving times, when something is coming near, I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone. I want to unfold. I don’t want to be folded anywhere, because where I am folded, there I am a lie.

In the night, I wish to speak with the angel to find out if she recognizes my eyes, if she will ask me: do you see Eden? And I’ll reply: Eden burns.

Since I've learned to be silent, everything has come so much closer to me.

Your life will still find its own paths from there, and that they may be good, rich, and wide is what I wish for you, more than I can say.

Yet everything that touches us, me and you, takes us together like a violin's bow, which draws one voice out of two separate strings.

Love the questions, themselves.