“A four year old girl was overheard whispering in her newborn baby brother's ear: "Baby," she whispers, "tell me what God sounds like. I'm starting to forget." -- Between the Dreaming and the Coming True”

“How do we come to choose what it is that we spend our days doing? Would we choose it again if we could? Did we choose it today, or has it simply carried us along somehow?”

“Sometimes I wish that I could sing or dance or paint or compose symphonies or build cathedrals to express somehow what all of this means to me. I wish I were a priest or a robin or a child or a sunset.”

“After a RetreatWhat hast thou learnt today?Hast thou sounded awful mysteries,Hast pierced the veiled skies,Climbed to the feet of God,Trodden where saints have trod, Fathomed the heights above?Nay,This only have I learnt, that God is love. What hast thou heard today?Hast heard the Angel-trumpets cry,And rippling harps reply;Heard from the Throne of flameWhence God incarnate cameSome thund'rous message roll?Nay, This have I heard, His voice within my soul. What hast thou felt today?The pinions of the Angel guideThat standeth at thy sideIn rapturous ardours beatGlowing, from head to feet,In ecstasy divine?Nay, This only have felt, Christ's hand in mine.”

“A HaltLie still, my soul, the Sun of GraceIs warm within this garden spaceBeneath tall kindly trees.The quiet light is green and fair;A fragrance fills the swooning air;Lie still, and take thine ease.This silent noon of Jesu's loveIs warm about thee and above-A tender Lord is He.Lie still an hour- this place is HisHe has a thousand pleasaunces,And each all fair and fragrant is,And each is all for thee.Then, Jesu, for a little spaceI rest me in this garden place,All sweet to scent and sight.Here, from this high-road scarce withdrawn,I thrust my hot hands in the lawnCool yet with dew of far-off dawnAnd saturate with light.But ah, dear Saviour, human-wise,I yearn to pierce all mysteries,To catch Thine Hands and see Thine EyesWhen evening sounds begin.There, in Thy white Robe, Thou wilt waitAt dusk beside some orchard gate,And smile to see me come so late,And, smiling, call me in.”

“O Deus Ego Amo TeOh God, I love Thee mightily,Not only for Thy saving me, Nor yet because who love not TheeMust burn throughout eternity.Thou, Thou, my Jesu, once didst meEmbrace upon the bitter Tree.For me the nails, the soldier's spear, With injury and insult, bear-In pain all pain exceeding,In sweating and in bleeding,Yea, very death, and that for meA sinner all unheeding!O Jesu, should I not love TheeWho thus hast dealt so lovingly-Not hoping some reward to see,Nor lest I my damnation be;But as Thyself hast loved me,So love I now and always Thee,Because my King alone Thou art,Because, O God, mine own Thou art!”

“Prefer what intuition whispers in your ear to what you have done and redone ten times in your head.”