This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an...

When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,...

One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice - though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. ‘Mend my life!’ each voice cried. But you didn’t stop. You knew what you had to do, though the wind pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations, though their melancholy was terrible. It was already late enough, and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches and st