Holiness (n.) is a requirement of human survival on a par with health, not an ornament of the devout.
Holiness (n.) is the part of anything that belongs to God rather than to us, and it hides in what looks trivial.
Holiness (n.) is hammered out on the anvil of the will, not dreamed up in visions: grain becomes sacred because someone declares it so.
Holiness (n.) is a truth one reaches by worship, not by speculation.
Holiness (n.) belongs to no single religion; it appears wherever a deed matches God's will or a thought turns to Him.
Holiness (n.) is the only thing that conquers absurdity; without it we sink.
Holiness (n.) in the Bible is not eeriness; the Holy One is both utterly other and utterly related.
Holiness (n.) as the prophet knows it is an unbridgeable chasm: man is clay in the potter's hand, a contrast no polytheist ever felt.
Holiness (n.) is met halfway: sanctify yourself a little and more is given from above.
Holiness (n.) is the only ventilation for man's suffocating selfishness.
Holiness (n.) can be perceived only by the holy, just as thought can be tested only by thinking.
Holiness (n.) seeps into those who perform holy deeds.
Holiness (n.) is earned through goodness, and goodness through acts of kindness.
Holiness (n.) is not produced by the soul alone; it flares up where God and the soul meet in a good act.
Holiness (n.) hovers over everything, so that at moments things look like thoughts in the mind of God.
Holiness (n.) draws its strength from underground, from the body, not from the sanctuary or the hermit's cell.