We are not at peace with others because we are not at peace with ourselves, and we are not at peace with ourselves because we are not at peace with God

No writing on the solitary, meditative dimensions of life can say anything that has not already been said better by the wind in the pine trees.

In Silence God ceases to be an object and becomes an experience.

But the man who is not afraid to admit everything that he sees to be wrong with himself, and yet recognizes that he may be the object of God's love precisely because of his shortcomings, can begin to be sincere. His sincerity is based on confidence, not in his own illusions about himself, but in the endless, unfailing mercy of God.

Persons are not known by intellect alone, not by principles alone, but only by love. It is when we love the other, the enemy, that we obtain from God the key to an understanding of who he is, and who we are. It is only this realization that can open to us the real nature of our duty, and of right action.

Silence has many dimensions. It can be a regression and an escape, a loss of self, or it can be presence, awareness, unification, self-discovery. Negative silence blurs and confuses our identity, and we lapse into daydreams or diffuse anxieties. Positive silence pulls us together and makes us realize who we are, who we might be, and the distance between these two.

The peace produced by grace is a spiritual stability too deep for violence — it is unshakeable