So it is that God tugs at a pilgrim's sleeve telling him to remember that he is only human. He must be his own man, remain in exile, and belong to himself. He must pay attention to his own feelings and to the meaning of what he does, if he is to be for himself, and yet for others as well.

In the long run we get no more than we have been willing to risk giving.

Again and again I find that my own inner counselor, my secret dreaming self, is not only wise and helpful but usually amusing as well.

We must learn to give ourselves permission to blunder, to fail, and to make fools of ourselves every day for the rest of our lives. We do so in any case.

Transformations require that we let go of familiar ways of doing things, without yet knowing what we will do next.

Anarchy could never get a man to the moon, but it may the only mode that can allow us to survive on earth.

To live without the creative potential of our own destructiveness is to be a cardboard angel.