We can't help being thirsty, moving toward the voice of water.
There is a way between voice and presence, where information flows. In disciplined silence it opens; with wandering talk it closes.
War, like children's fights, are meaningless, pitiless, and contemptible.
Every door is another passage, another boundary we have to go beyond.
I should be suspicious of what I want.
Every prophet and every saint has a way, But all lead to God. All ways are really one.