“There is another world, but it is in this one.”

Sometimes my feet are tired and my hands are quiet, but there is no quiet in my heart.

I broke my heart in two So hard I struck. What matter? for I know That out of rock, Out of a desolate source, Love leaps upon its course.

The mystical life is the centre of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write. I have always considered myself a voice of what I believe to be a greater renaissance – the revolt of the soul against the intellect.

Neither Christ nor Buddha nor Socrates wrote a book, for to do so is to exchange life for a logical process.

All empty souls tend toward extreme opinions.

Teaching is not filling up a pail, it is lighting a fire.

And wisdom is a butterfly And not a gloomy bird of prey.

Talent perceives differences; genius, unity.

We are closed in, and the key is turned / On our uncertainty.

People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.

Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams, Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.

From our birthday, until we die, Is but the winking of an eye.

And pluck till time and times are done the silver apples of the moon the golden apples of the sun.

I’m looking for the face I had, before the world was made.

Only that which does not teach, which does not cry out, which does not condescend, which does not explain, is irresistible.

Yet they that know all things but know That all this life can give us is, A child’s laughter, a woman’s kiss.

We should be proud that so many want to come to America, that it is still seen as the land of opportunity. Let’s make it a land of legal work, not black-market jobs. Let’s make it a land of work, not welfare. Our land should be one of assimilation, not hiding in the shadows.

If you hide your ignorance, no one will hit you and you’ll never learn.

Truth, they say, is but too often in difficulties, but is never finally suppressed.

Your presence is poetic, mysterious and deep. If you don’t mind I’d like to read you; uncover the dirty secrets hidden within your pages and fill that missing space between your sheets.

This grace of God is a very great, strong, mighty and active thing. It does not lie asleep in the soul. Grace hears, leads, drives, draws, changes, works all in man, and lets itself be distinctly felt and experienced. It is hidden, but its works are evident.

How do you protect a heart? You don’t hide it’s magic.

I sometimes find it half a sin, to put to words the grief I feel, For words like nature, half reveal, and half conceal the soul within.

A woman’s heart should be so hidden in God that a man has to seek Him just to find her.