A daydream is an evasion. |
A life is either all spiritual or not spiritual at all. No man can serve two masters. Your life is shaped by the end you live for. You are made in the image of what you desire. |
Advertising treats all products with the reverence and the seriousness due to sacraments. |
An author in a Trappist monastery is like a duck in a chicken coop. And he would give anything in the world to be a chicken instead of a duck. |
Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time. |
At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal, from which God disposes of our lives, which is inaccessible to the fantasies of our own mind or the brutalities of our own will. |
bad book about the love of God remains a bad book. |
Be good, keep your feet dry, your eyes open, your heart at peace and your soul in the joy of Christ. |
By reading the scriptures I am so renewed that all nature seems renewed around me and with me. The sky seems to be a pure, a cooler blue, the trees a deeper green. The whole world is charged with the glory of God and I feel fire and music under my feet. |
Death is someone you see very clearly with eyes in the center of your heart: eyes that see not by reacting to light, but by reacting to a kind of a chill from within the marrow of your own life. |
Every moment and every event of every man's life on earth plants something in his soul. |
Faith is a light of such supreme brilliance that it dazzles the mind and darkens all its visions of other realities, but in the end when we become used to the new light, we gain a new view of all reality transfigured and elevated in the light itself. |
Happiness is not a matter of intensity but of balance, order, rhythm and harmony. |
I am willing to admit that some people might live there for years, or even a lifetime, so protected that they never sense the sweet stench of corruption that is all around them -- the keen, thin scent of decay that pervades everything and accuses with a terrible accusation the superficial youthfulness, the abounding undergraduate noise, that fills those ancient buildings. |
I cannot make the universe obey me. I cannot make other people conform to my own whims and fancies. I cannot make even my own body obey me. |