My garden, with its silence and pulses of fragrance that come and go on the airy undulations, affects me like sweet music. Care stops at the gates, and gazes at me wistfully through the bars.

A thought may be very commendable as a thought, but I value it chiefly as a window through which I can obtain insight on the thinker.

We bury love; Forgetfulness grows over it like grass: That is a thing to weep for, not the dead.

A poem round and perfect as a star.

A single soul is richer than all the worlds.

A man does not plant a tree for himself; he plants it for posterity.

The saddest thing that befalls a soul is when it loses faith in god and woman.