As a coal is revived by incense, so prayer revives the hopes of the heart.
Prayer never brought in no side-meat. Takes a shoat to bring in pork.
Prayer is translation. A man translates himself into a child asking for all there is in a language he has barely mastered.
Maybe love was superstition, a prayer we said to keep the truth of loneliness at bay.
When the gods wish to punish us they answer our prayers.
Those who pray always are necessary to those who never pray. In our view, the whole question is in the amount of thought that is mingled with prayer.
Therefore Prayer, issuing from so many trials, is the consummation of all truths, all powers, all feelings.
The sun will not cease to shine if we miss a prayer or two.
The prayer does not change God, but it changes the one who prays.[Bønnen forandrer ikke Gud, men den forandrer den Bedende.]
The only decent activity in the world was to pray for everyone, in solitude.
The final life, the fruition of all other lives, to which the powers of the soul have tended, and whose merits open the Sacred Portals to perfected man, is the life of Prayer.
Tell me, what use is prayer, contemplation, or learning? Does prayer grow rye? Does contemplation fill a fishing net? Does learning build a house or plow a field?
