In what he suffered, as in all true suffering and in true joy, there was the quality of eternity. He could not believe it would ever end.

The sun is still there... even if clouds drift over it. Once you have experienced the reality of sunshine you may weep, but you will never feel ice about your heart again.

All human beings have their otherness and it is that which cries out to the heart.

One is seldom unchanged by the death of those one loves. It gives me a deeper knowledge of them, and so of oneself in regard to them.

These black times go as they come and we do not know how they come or why they go. But we know that God controls them, as he controls the whole vast cobweb of the mystery of things.

The years stretched before her, a long and dusty way, yet if she could walk humbly along it she might find that life, unfolding slowly, keeps its best secrets till the end.

...those who break the law should be loved more and not less for their sin, for if we do not forgive then is sin added to sin and the end is death.

We all of us need to be toppled off the throne of self, my dear, " he said. "Perched up there the tears of others are never upon our own cheek.

There is no way to imagine what it feels like to be shot at. I will never be with him when he is the most scared.

To be brave, you have to fight against something that scares you. That's the rule.

There is no room for emotion in business.

Time is a great teacher but unfortunately it kills all its pupils.

I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day. What hours, O what black hours we have spent This night!

We know well and we know chronically ill, but there is a whole bunch of gray in between where I think we can heal people before they become chronically sick. I believe our thoughts make us sick.

Absent in body, but present in spirit.

I learned to change my accent; in England, your accent identifies you very strongly with a class, and I did not want to be held back.

People tend to become cynical about even the most appalling crisis if it seems to be dragging on, failing to come to term.

Our works decay and disappear but God gentlest works stay looking down on the ruins we toil to rear.