A Community Receives Light From Its History,

It Is True That We Are Made Of Dust. And The World Is Also Made Of Dust. But The Dust Has Motes Rising.

Since Love First Made The Breast An Instrument Of Fierce Lamenting, By Its Flame My Heart Was Molten To A Mirror, Like A Rose I Pluck My Breast Apart, That I May Hang This Mirror In Your Sight.

The Standpoint Of The Man Who Relies On Religious Experience For Capturing Reality Must Always Remain Individual And Incommunicable.

It Is The Mysterious Touch Of The Ideal That Animates And Sustains The Real, And Through It Alone We Can Discover And Affirm The Ideal.

The Immediacy Of Mystic Experience Simply Means That We Know God Just As We Know Other Objects. God Is Not A Mathematical Entity Or A System Of Concepts Mutually Related To One Another And Having No Reference To Experience.