Speaking of August Rodin: He raised his world above us in an immense arc, and made it a part of nature.

Life is heavier than the weight of all things.

What do the contours of your body mean, laid out like the lines on a hand, so that I no longer see them except as fate?

If the Angel deigns to appear, it will be because you have convinced him, not by tears but by your humble resolve to be always beginning — to be a Beginner!

Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.

And you suddenly know: It was here! You pull yourself together, and there stands an irrevocable year of anguish and vision and prayer.

The highest form of love is to be the protector of another person’s solitude.