I came to love you too late, Oh Beauty, so ancient and so new... What did I know? You were inside me, and I was out of my body and mind, looking for you... You called to me and cried to me; you broke the bowl of my deafness; you uncovered your beams, and threw them at me...
An early century desert monk once shared an image:
"When the door of the steam bath is continually left open, the heat inside rapidly escapes through it; likewise the soul, in its desire to say many things, dissipates its remembrance of God through the door of speech, even though everything it says is good ..."
Timely silence, then, is precious, for it is nothing less than the mother of the wisest thoughts.