If God made the world, I would not be that God, for the misery of the world would break my heart.
An Ecologist lives in a world of wounds.
Cannot find the comfort in this world.
We live in the midst of a creation that is groaning.
He passes from lyric to epic poetry in order to speak about the world and the torment in the world through man, rationally and emotionally. The poet then becomes a danger.
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
If you stay in the mainstream of life, you let in the suffering of the world that invariably enters all of our lives by the time we're in our middle years, when we've experienced a few deaths and read a few headlines.
I believe, sometimes, that the whole world has an aching heart.
These are hard times. The world hurts. We live in fear and forget to walk with hope. But hope has not forgotten you. So ask it to dinner. It's probably hungry and would appreciate the invitation.
It is in vain, I perceive, to look for ease and happiness in a world of troubles.
Fiction and non-fiction are only different techniques of story telling. For reasons I do not fully understand, fiction dances out of me. Non-fiction is wrenched out by the aching, broken world I wake up to every morning.
The crying sounded even louder out of doors. It was as if all the pain in the world had found a voice
We shouldn’t come up with a pseudo-spiritual excuse for turning away from the pain of the world.
