I have noticed that people tend to stop maturing when they start self-medicating.
The best beaten spice will smoke in your censer in your private devotions, where no ear hears but God’s.
It is not in soul-searching… that we encounter the Lord.
The fact that we have bodies is the oldest joke there is.
Who, being loved, is poor?
God, who needs nothing, loves into existence wholly superfluous creatures in order that He may love and perfect them. He creates the universe, already foreseeing – or should we say seeing? There are no tenses in God – the buzzing cloud of flies about the cross, the flayed back pressed against the uneven stake, the nails driven through the mesial nerves, the repeated incipient suffocation as the body droops, the repeated torture of back and arms as it is time after time, for breath’s sake, hitched up. If I may dare the biological image, God is a “host” who deliberately creates his own parasites; Causes us to be that we may exploit and “take advantage of” Him. Herein is love. This is a diagram of Love Himself, the inventor of all loves.
Il successo non fa compagnia.
Jovanotti - La Valigia
(Success doesn’t keep company)
Our Lord’s own words are both far fiercer and far more tolerable than those of the theologians.
Farther than the pale moon rises upon the open plains
Past the time of the longest blood line
There shines an immortal flame