To write is to enter into silence, to speak in a low voice for the few who enter into silence with you because they recognize a voice that is rising up out of themselves. There exists a race of people, you see, who are in harmony with you. One is a writer, another is a reader, what does it matter? They are branches of the same stream, beyond ideas and opinions. If so many human beings live by appearances and exhaust themselves in the theater of the world, it is in order to cover over the depth of the abyss. For if the immemorial voice continued to murmur to them, they would no longer be able to believe in progress, money, success or glory.
Each age has its own task...Our hermitage is the act of living with attention in the
midst of things: amid the rhythms of work, and love, the bath with the child, the
endlessly growing paperwork, the ever-present likelihood of war, the necessity for
taking action to help the world. For us, a good spiritual life is permeable and robust. It
faces things squarely, knowing the smallest moments are all we have, and that even the
smallest moment is full of happiness.