The great truth that is too often forgotten is that it is in the nature of people to do good to one another.

Love is holy because it is like grace--the worthiness of its object is never really what matters.

Sometimes I have loved the peacefulness of an ordinary Sunday. It is like standing in a newly planted garden after a warm rain. You can feel the silent and invisible life.

Every sorrow suggests a thousand songs and every song recalls a thousand sorrows and so they are infinite in number and all the same.

I am grateful for all those dark years, even though in retrospect they seem like a long, bitter prayer that was answered finally.

We are part of a mystery, a splendid mystery within which we must attempt to orient ourselves if we are to have a sense of our own nature.

This is an interesting planet. It deserves all the attention you can give it.

There is more beauty than our eyes can bear, precious things have been put into our hands and to do nothing to honor them is to do great harm.

Ordinary things have always seemed numinous to me

When we did not move or speak, there was no proof that we were there at all.

Because, once alone, it is impossible to believe that one could ever have been otherwise. Loneliness is an absolute discovery.

It is not truth but opinion that can travel the world without a passport.

Criticism is like champagne, nothing more execrable if bad, nothing more excellent if good.

Watching Phil Mickelson play golf is like watching a drunk chasing a balloon near the edge of a cliff.

Strictly speaking, there are no holidays for art; art pursues you everywhere, and that's just fine with the artist.

Bonnat tells me, 'Your painting isn't bad, it is chic, but even so it isn't bad, but your drawing is absolutely atrocious.' So I must gather my courage and start once again.

Our passions shape our books, repose writes them in the intervals.

We have to see conflict as thinking and then get really good at it.

The daughter-in-law of Pythagoras said that a woman who goes to bed with a man ought to lay aside her modesty with her skirt, and put it on again with her petticoat

Christ has not only spoken to us by his life but has also spoken for us by his death.

Asleep, nobody is a hypocrite