...all his thoughts were of how lucky he was to inhabit such a beautiful earth, how lucky he had been to solve his problems with music, and how pleasant it was to look forward to another night of sleep and another day tomorrow, and the fresh morning, and the light that returns with the day.

I wonder,” he said, “whether the stars are set alight in heaven so that one day each one of us may find his own again...

He tried the luxury of doing good.

He enjoys true leisure who has time to improve his soul's estate.

From toil he wins his spirits light, From busy day the peaceful night; Rich, from the very want of wealth, In heaven's best treasures, peace and health.

Cheerful at morn, he wakes from short repose,
Breasts the keen air, and carols as he goes.

if someone loves a flower, of which just one single blossom grows, in all the millions of stars, it is enough to make him happy just to look at the stars.

He thinks it's his day, and when you think it's your day, it usually is.

He is in his late sixties, but has the charm of extreme youth, for he comes to a pleasure and hails it happily for what it is without any bitterness accumulated from past disappointments, and he believes that any moment the whole process of life may make a slight switch-over and that everything will be agreeable for ever. His manners would satisfy the standards of any capital in the world, but at the same time he is exquisitely, pungently local.

But he is risen, a later star of dawn.

...like his own rare thoughts, a chemistry of stars.

Now let us see what he can do with it. Let us see if, under easier conditions, he is able to build the planetary paradise he has always desired, or will abuse his new leisure to the destruction of his soul. Let us see if godly power will make him a little more godlike. (p. 201)

Every day is a new life to a wise man.

Ward: He also said concerning Abba Pior that every day he made a new beginning.