All Language Is A Longing For Home.

Every Prophet And Every Saint Has A Way, But All Lead To God. All Ways Are Really One.

Your Hand Opens And Closes, Opens And Closes. If It Were Always A Fist Or Always Stretched Open, You Would Be Paralysed. Your Deepest Presence Is In Every Small Contracting And Expanding, The Two As Beautifully Balanced And Coordinated As Birds' Wings.

In Things Spiritual, There Is No Partition, No Number, No Individuals. How Sweet Is The Oneness-unearth The Treasure Of Unity.

We Carry Inside Us The Wonders We Seek Outside Us.

Love Is Reckless; Not Reason. Reason Seeks A Profit. Loves Comes On Strong, Consuming Herself Unabashed. Yet In The Midst Of Suffering Love Proceeds Like A Millstone, Hard Surfaced And Straight Forward. Having Died To Self Interest, She Risks Everything And Asks For Nothing. Love Gambles Away Every Gift God Bestows. Without Cause God Gave Us Being; Without Cause Give It Back Again. Gambling Yourself Away Is Beyond Any Religion. Religion Seeks Grace And Favor, But Those Who Gamble These Away Are God's Favorites, For They Neither Put God To The Test Nor Knock At The Door Of Gain And Loss.