“I want to knowif you knowhow to melt into that fierce heat of livingfalling towardthe center of your longing.”

“It doesn't interest me if there is one Godor many gods.I want to know if you belong or feelabandoned.If you know despair or can see it in others.I want to know if you are prepared to live in the worldwith its harsh needto change you. If you can look backwith firm eyessaying this is where I stand. I want to knowif you know how to melt into that fierce heat of livingfalling towardthe center of your longing. I want to knowif you are willingto live, day by day, with the consequence of loveand the bitterunwanted passion of your sure defeat.I have heard, in that fierce embrace, eventhe gods speak of God.”

“...wanting soul life without the dark, warming intelligence of personal doubt is like expecting an egg without the brooding heat of the mother hen.”

“When your eyes are tired the world is tired also. When your vision has gone no part of the world can find you. Time to go into the dark where the night has eyes to recognize its own. There you can be sure you are not beyond love. The dark will be your womb tonight. The night will give you a horizon further than you can see. You must learn one thing. The world was made to be free in. Give up on all other worlds except the one to which you belong. Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you. ”

“Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweetconfinement of your alonenessto learnanything or anyonethat does not bring you aliveis too small for you.”

“FINISTERREThe road in the end taking the path the sun had taken, into the western sea, and the moon rising behind you as you stood where ground turned to ocean: no way to your future now but the way your shadow could take, walking before you across water, going where shadows go, no way to make sense of a world that wouldn't let you pass except to call an end to the way you had come, to take out each frayed letter you brought and light their illumined corners, and to read them as they drifted through the western light; to empty your bags; to sort this and to leave that; to promise what you needed to promise all along, and to abandon the shoes that had brought you here right at the water's edge, not because you had given up but because now, you would find a different way to tread, and because, through it all, part of you could still walk on, no matter how, over the waves.”

“Anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you.”