By early March 1865, more than a million Americans had killed or wounded each other in civil war; the killing, wounding, and maiming continued for another month or so. 

I have been reading the works of Saint Hildegard (1098–1179), the visionary mystic, naturalist, scriptural exegete, artist, and musical composer.

In May 1968 in Paris,  I discovered my vocation.

To insist that freedom is inseparable from virtue while also emphasizing the need for strong limits on government power is becoming a very lonely path in today's America.

Hatred comes first, and reasons follow after.

I cannot think of any politician, thinker or novelist who has sent so much comfort and aspiration to so many people.

I travelled from Poland, already inwardly frozen by the eerie chill of Communism — and Communist Prague did nothing to raise my spirits.

The fact that hell was not built in a day, and that language was an important auxiliary in its construction, naturally enough makes us think of our own linguistic situation.

Two tall men in a state room: one a Protestant minister in his prime, full of zeal, beloved by millions all over the world; the other quite elderly, of a quiet demeanor, subtle, careful, yet absolutely clear in his thought.