No soul is desolate as long as there is a human being for whom it can feel trust and reverence.

What loneliness is more lonely than distrust?

We die to each other daily. What we know of other people is only our memory of the moments during which we knew them. And they have changed since then. To pretend that they and we are the same is a useful and convenient social convention which must sometimes be broken. We must also remember that at every meeting we are meeting a stranger.

What we know of other people's only our memory of the moments during which we knew them.

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope, For hope would be hope for the wrong thing.

There's no vocabulary For love within a family, love that's lived in But not looked at, love within the light of which All else is seen, the love within which All other love finds speech. This love is silent.