Self-esteem and self-contempt have specific odors; they can be smelled.

Compassion alone stands apart from the continuous traffic between good and evil proceeding within us.

Craving, not having, is the mother of a reckless giving of oneself.

I hang onto my prejudices, they are the testicles of my mind.

Many of the insights of the saint stem from their experience as sinners.

There is in most passions a shrinking away from ourselves. The passionate pursuer has all the earmarks of a fugitive.

There is sublime thieving in all giving. Someone gives us all he has and we are his.