When I am dead, come to me at my grave, and the more often, the better. Whatever is on your soul, whatever may have happened to you, come to me as when I was alive and, kneeling on the ground, cast all your bitterness upon my grave. Tell me everything and I shall listen to you, and all the bitterness will fly away from you. And as you spoke to me when I was alive, do so now. For I am living, and I shall be forever.
Anyone who has probed the inner life, who has sat in silence long enough to experience the stillness of the mind behind its
apparent noise is faced with a mystery. Apart from all the outer attractions of life in the world, there exists at the center
of human consciousness something quite satisfying and beautiful in itself, a beauty without features. The mystery is not so
much that these two dimensions exist – an outer world and the mystery of the inner world – but that we are suspended between them, as a space in which both worlds meet ... as if the human being is the meeting point, the threshold between two worlds.
Good human work honors God's work. Good work uses no thing without respect, both for what it is in itself and for its origin. It uses
neither tool nor material that it does not
respect and that it does not love. It honors nature as a great mystery and power, as an
indispensable teacher, and as the inescapable judge of all work of human hands.