What I wear is pants.
What I do is live.
How I pray is breathe...
Up here in the woods is seen the Word.
That is to say, the wind comes through
the trees and you breathe it.

Your solitude will bear immense fruit in the souls of men and women you will never see on earth.

Forests and fields, sun and wind and sky, earth and water, all speak the same language: peace, solitude, silence.

The silence of the spheres is the music of a wedding feast. The more we persist in misunderstanding the phenomena of life, the more we analyze them out into strange finalities and complex purposes of our own, the more we involve ourselves in sadness, absurdity and despair. But it does not matter much, because no despair of ours can alter the reality of things, or stain the joy of the cosmic dance which is always there.

Even on the foggiest nights.

The whole thing boils down to giving ourselves in prayer a chance to realize that we have what we seek. We don't have to rush after it. It was there all the time, and if we give it time, it will make itself known to us. There is in all this a sense of the unfolding of mystery in time, a reverence for gradual growth.

Silence is fruitful only when it leads to interior peace and stillness.

Contemplation is a country whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere.

You do not find it by travelling, but by standing still.

Always be true to the deepest and purest aspirations of your soul. Be true to your own deepest self, the real "you", the inner self that is one with God. You may not always be aware of this inmost self. But there are times when, obscurely, at least, you KNOW what is best in you, and you can tell what road God wants you to travel. It does not have to be anything spectacular or unusual. It may simply be what is right in front of you. But it must be a way that enables you to be true to yourself, quietly, peacefully, patiently.