You are far greater than you know, and all is well.
The sea that calls all things unto her calls me, and I must embark.
A seeker of silences am I, and what treasure have I found in silences that I may dispense with confidence? If this is my day of harvest, in what fields have I sowed the seed, and in what unremembered seasons?
It were wiser to speak less of God, Whom we cannot understand, and more of each other, whom we may understand.
You are the way and the wayfarers. And when one of you falls down he falls for those behind him, a caution against the stumbling stone. Aye, and he falls for those ahead of him, who, though faster and surer of foot, yet removed not the stumbling stone.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness. And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Even those who limp go not backward.
You shall be free indeed when your days are not without a care nor your nights without a want and a grief, But rather when these things girdle your life and yet you rise above them naked and unbound.
We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way, begin no day where we have ended another day, and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us.
Waiting is the hoofs of time.
Between us, Mary, there stands an unknown god.
You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps. Yet you are not evil when you go thither limping. Even those who limp go not backward. But you who are strong and swift, see that you do not limp before the lame, deeming it kindness.
Your friend is your needs answered.
Pleasure is a freedom-song, But it is not freedom. It is the blossoming of your desires, But it is not their fruit. It is a depth calling unto a height, But it is not the deep nor the high.
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light. If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
If you would rise but a cubit above race and country and self you would indeed become godlike.
And even as each one of you stands alone in God’s knowledge, so must each one of you be alone in his knowledge of God and in his understanding of the earth.
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields. And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
I long for eternity because there I shall meet my unwritten poems and my unpainted pictures.