The Temples Of Those Who Deny The

We Know Well Only What We Are Deprived Of.

Men Resemble Great Deserted Palaces: The Owner Occupies Only A Few Rooms And Has Closed-off Wings Where He Never Ventures.

If The Flame Inside You Goes Out, The Souls That Are Next To You Will Die Of Cold.

I Write Whenever It Suits Me. During A Creative Period I Write Every Day; A Novel Should Not Be Interrupted. When I Cease To Be Carried Along, When I No Longer Feel As Though I Were Taking Down Dictation, I Stop.

The Eucharist Engages Us Unreservedly; It Is A Pact Of Love, An Alliance Signed In The Deeper Recesses Of Our Being. All Our Potentialities Are Called Upon To Warrant The Protection And Fulfillment Of This Pact.