Man Only Progresses By Slowly

Without You, Without Your Onslaughts, Without Your Uprootings Of Us, We Should Remain All Our Lives Inert, Stagnant, Puerile, Ignorant Both Of Ourselves And Of God. You Who Batter Us And Then Dress Our Wounds, You Who Resist Us And Yield To Us, You Who Wreck And Build, You Who Shackle And Liberate, The Sap Of Our Souls, The Hand Of God, The Flesh Of Christ: It Is You, Matter, That I Bless.

Without The Slightest Doubt There Is Something Through Which Material And Spiritual Energy Hold Togehter And Are Complementary. In The Last Analysis, Somehow Or Other, There Must Be A Single Energy Operating In The World. And The First Idea That Occurs To Us Is That The 'soul' Must Be As It Were The Focal Point Of Transformation At Which, From All The Points Of Nature, The Forces Of Bodies Converge, To Become Interiorised And Sublimated In Beauty And Truth.

The Dog Knows, But Does Not Know That He Knows.

To Love Is To Approach Each Other Center To Center.

By Means Of All Created Things, Without Excaption, The Divine Assails Us, Penetrates Us, And Molds Us. We Imagined It As Distant And Inaccessible, When In Fact We Live Steeped In Its Burning Layers