We had the experience, but we missed the meaning.

It is impossible to design a system so perfect that no one needs to be good.

Where is the Life we lost in living?

Poetry may make us from time to time a little more aware of the deeper, unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves.

Culture is the one thing that we cannot deliberately aim at. It is the product of a variety of more or less harmonious activities, each pursued for its own sake.

If we really want to pray we must first learn to listen, for in the silence of the heart God speaks.

The poet's mind is in fact a receptacle for seizing and storing up numberless feelings, phrases, images, which remain there until all the particles which can unite to form a new compound are present together.