Things that are mysterious are not yet miracles.
They say miracles are past.
Miracles, in the sense of phenomena we cannot explain, surround us on every hand: life itself is the miracle of miracles.
Life itself is not the miracle. That pain should be so constant, that’s the miracle.
Faith does not, in the realist, spring from the miracle but the miracle from faith.[В реалисте вера не от чуда рождается, а чудо от веры.]