Not just part of us becomes a teacher. It engages the whole self - the woman or man, wife or husband, mother or father, the lover, scholar or artist in you as well as the teacher earning money.

I see the mind of the five-year-old as a volcano with two vents: destructiveness and creativeness.

To feel as well as hear what someone says requires whole attention.

Self-forgetfulness in creativity can lead to self-transcendence.

A comforting acquaintance, hope, a contagious thing like spring, inebriating like lager.

When I teach people, I marry them.

It is not so much the content of what one says as the way in which one says it. However important the thing you say, what's the good of it if not heard or, being heard, not felt?