Anxiety is the mark of spiritual insecurity.

When you expect the world to end at any moment, you know there is no need to hurry. You take your time, you do your work well.

For if I am to love truly and freely, I must be able to give something that is truly my own to another. If my heart does not first belong to me, how can I give it to another?

The logic of the poet - that is, the logic of language or the experience itself - develops the way a living organism grows: it spreads out towards what it loves, and is heliotropic, like a plant.

Teach me to go to the country beyond words and beyond names.

O love-why can't you leave me alone? Which is a rhetorical question meaning: for heaven's sake, don't.

The world as pure object is something that is not there. It is not a reality outside us for which we exist....It is a living and self-creating mystery of which I am myself a part, to which I am myself, my own unique door.