Things that are mysterious are not yet miracles.
They say miracles are past.
Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.
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.
It says, ‘Some Pig,’ just as clear as clear can be. There can be no mistake about it. A miracle has happened and a sign has occurred here on earth, right on our farm, and we have no ordinary pig.
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.]
Every hour of the light and dark is a miracle, every inch of space is a miracle.