(people Achieve) Fullness Of Being In Fellowship,

Proximity To The Crowd, To The Majority View, Spells The Death Of Creativity. For A Soul Can Create Only When Alone, And Some Are Chosen For The Flowering That Takes Place In The Dark Avenues Of Night.

Faith Is Not The Clinging To A Shrine But An Endless Pilgrimage Of The Heart. Audacious Longing, Burning Songs, Daring Thoughts, An Impulse Overwhelming The Heart, Usurping The Mind--these Are All A Drive Towards Serving Him Who Rings Our Hearts Like A Bell. It Is As If He Were Waiting To Enter Our Empty, Perishing Lives.

All Events Are Secretly Interrelated; The Sweep Of All We Are Doing Reaches Beyond The Horizon Of Our Comprehension.

Few Are Guilty, But All Are Responsible.

All That Is Left Is To Us Is Our Being Horrified At The Loss Of Our Sense Of Horror.