Beloved, let the fact of what our Lord suffered for you grip you, and you will never again be the same.
Two lights for guidance. The first, our little glowing atom of community, with all that it signifies. The second, the cold light of the stars, symbol of hypercosmical reality, with its crystal ecstasy. Strange that in this light, in which even the dearest love is frostily assessed, and even possible defeat of our half-waking world is contemplated without remission of praise, the human crisis does not lose but gains significance. Strange, that it seems more, not less, urgent to play some part in this struggle, this brief effort of animalcules striving to win for their race some increase of lucidity before the ultimate darkness.
To keep your marriage brimming, With love in the loving cup, Whenever you're wrong, admit it Whenever you're right, shut up.
I think that I shall never see A billboard lovely as a tree. Perhaps, unless the billboards fall, I'll never see a tree at all.
When I remember bygone days I think how evening follows morn So many I loved were not yet dead, So many I love were not yet born.
Treasure the love you receive above all. It will survive long after your good health has vanished.
Do all things with love.
I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness because it shows me the stars.
Love is an attempt at penetrating another being, but it can only succeed if the surrender is mutual.
To love is to battle, to open doors. The world changes if two can look at each other and see.
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