Abraham Joshua Heschel's prose is more poetic to me than most poetry. -- drs
What is extraordinary appears to us as habit, the dawn of a daily routine of nature. But time and again we awake. In the midst of walking in the never-ending procession of days and nights, we are suddenly filled with a solemn terror, with a feeling of our wisdom being inferior to dust. We cannot endure the heartbreaking splendor of sunsets. Of what avail, then, are opinions, words, dogmas? In the confinement of our study rooms, our knowledge seems to us a pillar of light. But when we stand at the door which opens out to the infinite, we realize that all concepts are but glittering motes that populate a sunbeam.
Man is Not Alone; p. 35
I really liked yesterday's Upper Room devotional..
Thursday's Upper Room Devotional
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