Forgiving Is Forgetting, In Spite Of Remembering.

In A Dream I Walked With God Through The Deep Places Of Creation; Past Walls That Receded And Gates That Opened Through Hall After Hall Of Silence, Darkness And Refreshment--the Dwelling Place Of Souls Acquainted With Light And Warmth--until, Around Me, Was An Infinity Into Which We All Flowed Together And Lived Anew, Like The Rings Made By Raindrops Falling Upon Wide Expanses Of Calm Dark Waters.

To Have Humility Is To Experience Reality, Not In Relation To Ourselves, But In Its Sacred Independence. It Is To See, Judge, And Act From The Point Of Rest In Ourselves. Then, How Much Disappears, And All That Remains Falls Into Place. In The Point Of Rest At The Center Of Our Being, We Encounter A World Where All Things Are At Rest In The Same Way. Then A Tree Becomes A Mystery, A Cloud A Revelation, Each Man A Cosmos Of Whose Riches We Can Only Catch Glimpses. The Life Of Simplicity Is Simple, But It Opens To Us A Book In Which We Never Get Beyond The First Syllable.

Maturity - Among Other Things, The Unclouded Happiness Of The Child At Play, Who Takes It For Granted That He Is At One With His Play-mates.

Destiny Is Something Not Be To Desired And Not To Be Avoided. A Mystery Not Contrary To Reason, For It Implies That The World, And The Course Of Human History, Have Meaning.

Only One Feat Is Possible: Not To Have Run Away.