To this shadowy land, that knows neither sin nor redemption from sin, where evil is not moral but is only the pain residing forever in earthly things, Christ did not come. Christ stopped at Eboli.

The future has an ancient heart.

The greatest travelers have not gone beyond the limits of their own world; they have trodden the paths of their own souls, of good and evil, of morality and redemption.

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.

The most tragic and deviant behaviour of all is that we live our lives like we will never die, and nonetheless we never live at all.

Pulvis et umbra sumsu." ~ Horace, Odes ("We are dust and Shadows")

Think of the purest, most all-consuming love you can imagine. Now multiply that love by an infinite amount-that is the measure of God’s love for you.

Like Leibniz's possible worlds, most men are only equally entitled pretenders to existence. There are few existences.

There can be no peace, no stability as long as occupation and aggression continue.

Our troubles keep us going.

The beckoning Hands Of God's hopeful Smile Will, without fail, one day greet The fruitful cries Of man's prayerful heart.

We sleepwalk through our lives, because how could we live if we were always this awake?

The machinations of ambiguity are among the very roots of poetry.