Thy word remaineth for ever, which word now appeareth unto us in the riddle of the clouds, and through the mirror of the heavens, not as it is: because that even we, though the well beloved of thy Son, yet it hath not yet appeared what we shall be. He looked through the lattice of our flesh and he spake us fair, yea, he set us on fire, and we hasten on his scent. But when he shall appear, then shall we be like him, for we shall see him as he is: as he is, Lord, will our sight be, though the time be not yet.

Poetry is devil's wine.

Love and say it with your life.

Let our lives be good, and the times are good. We make our times; such as we are, such are the times.

He that loveth little prayeth little, he that loveth much prayeth much.

When I am completely united to You, there will be no more sorrow or trials; entirely full of You, my life will be complete.

And he departed from our sight that we might return to our hearts and find him there. For he left us, and behold, he is here.