My principle anguish and the source of all my joys and sorrows from my youth onward has been the incessant, merciless battle between the spirit and the flesh.
The truth is that we all are one, that all of us together create god, that god is not man’s ancestor, but his descendant.
The doors of heaven and hell are adjacent and identical.
The landscape affects the human psyche – the soul, the body and the innermost contemplations – like music. Every time you feel nature deeper you resonate better with her, finding new elements of balance and freedom...
I said to the almond tree, ‘Sister, speak to me of God.’ And the almond tree blossomed.
For I realize today that it is a mortal sin to violate the great laws of nature. We should not hurry, we should not be impatient, but we should confidently obey the eternal rhythm.
We’re going to start with small, easy things; then, little by little we shall try our hand at the big things. And after that, after we finish the big things, we shall undertake the impossible.
Whoever climbed the Lord’s mountain had to possess clean hands and an innocent heart; otherwise the Summit would kill him. Today the doorway is deserted. Soiled hands and sinful hearts are able to pass by without fear, for the Summit kills no longer.
Yes, there is weeping, even in heaven, but it is for those who are still crawling on the earth.
I collect my tools: sight, smell, touch, taste, hearing, intellect. Night has fallen...
Each man must have his own special route to lead him to God.
Never in my life have I feared death as much as I feared that resurrection.
As you walk, you cut open and create that riverbed into which the stream of your descendants shall enter and flow.
The more devils we have within us, the more chance we have to form angels.
He who is invisible sees more clearly, hears more clearly, and is better able to read the thoughts of men.
I loved my body and did not want it to perish; I loved my soul and did not want it to decay. I have fought to reconcile these two primordial forces.
God, what is all this talk put out by the popes? Paradise is here, my good man. God, give me no other paradise!
In religions which have lost their creative spark, the gods eventually become no more than poetic motifs or ornaments for decorating human solitude and walls.
Let your youth have free reign, it won’t come again, so be bold and no repenting.
I felt once more how simple and frugal a thing is happiness: a glass of wine, a roast chestnut, a wretched little brazier, the sound of the sea. Nothing else.