"I realised that my life was like a house and that God was standing and knocking on the door; but that throughout my life I had been conversing with God through the letterbox. Not once, when I knew very well that He was out there, or even when He knocked, had I opened the door and invited Him in. There was a hidden reason as to why I always kept the door closed between us: inside, my house was in a terrible mess; it needed a thorough clean before I could possibly let Him in. By the time the evening came I had actually grasped the fact that God does not mind how bad the mess inside our house is. It is His work and pleasure to help us clear it up, and through allowing Him to do so we are changed into better people."
"I’m beginning to miss you horribly. It’s not yet sorrow or anything tragic, it’s more like some food I’m lacking: I’ve enough just to vegetate, but always with an empty feeling in my stomach and a certain languor — whereas with you I used to be vigorous."