I, just from having felt affection, thought that loving is easy.

She clutched him tightly, in alarm. She protected herself trembling. Because life was in peril. She loved the world, loved what had been created - she loved with nausea.

I realize now that it was a certain apathy, rather than peace, that turned my acts and my desires to ash.

Twelve years weigh on a person like pounds of lead. The days melt into one another, merge to form one whole block, a big anchor. And the person is lost.

I am so lost. But that is exactly how we live; lost in time and space.

We are all deformed by our adaptation to the freedom of God.

Sometimes she didn't think. Sometimes a person sat there being. She didn't have to do. Being was already doing. You could be slowly or a bit fast.

Why is a dog free? Because it is the living mystery that doesn't wonder about itself.

Living is extremely tolerable, living keeps us busy and distracts us, living makes us laugh.