At night, I open the window and ask the moon to come and press its face against mine. Breathe into me. Close the language - door and open the love - window. The moon won’t use the door, only the window.
Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.
Everyone has in him something divine, something his own, a chance of perfection and strength in however small a sphere which God offers him to take or refuse. The task is to find it, develop it and use it.
One is absolutely sickened, not by crimes that the wicked have committed, but by the punishments that the good have inflicted; and a community is infinitely more brutalised by the habitual employment of punishment than it is by the occasional occurrence of crime.
