“Each in His Own TongueA fire mist and a planet,A crystal and a cell,A jellyfish and a saurian,And caves where the cave men dwell;Then a sense of law and beauty,And a face turned from the clod —Some call it Evolution,And others call it God.A haze on the far horizon,The infinite, tender sky,The ripe, rich tint of the cornfields,And the wild geese sailing high;And all over upland and lowlandThe charm of the goldenrod —Some of us call it Autumn,And others call it God.Like tides on a crescent sea beach,When the moon is new and thin,Into our hearts high yearningsCome welling and surging in;Come from the mystic ocean,Whose rim no foot has trod —Some of us call it Longing,And others call it God.A picket frozen on duty,A mother starved for her brood,Socrates drinking the hemlock,And Jesus on the rood;And millions who, humble and nameless,The straight, hard pathway plod —Some call it Consecration,And others call it God.”

“Some people compress compassion and call it love others, compress love and call it loneliness”

“God has not called us to see through each other but to see each other through.”

“We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they're called memories. Some take us forward, they're called dreams.”

“What we call Man's power over Nature turns out to be a power exercised by some men over other men with Nature as its instrument.”

“Anyone can write. Some people can write a bit better than others; they're called authors. Then there are some who can write better than authors; they're called artists.”

“God creates us free, free to be selfish, but He adds a mechanism that will penetrate our selfishness and wake us up to the presence of others in this world, and that mechanism is called suffering.”