All things are aggregations of atoms that dance & by their movement produce sound. When the rhythm of the dance changes, the sound it produces also changes... Each atom perpetually sings its song, and the sound at every moment creates dense subtle forms.

Landscapes have a language of their own, expressing the soul of the things, lofty or humble, which constitute them, from the mighty peaks to the smallest of the tiny flowers hidden in the meadow's grass.

Suffering raises up those souls that are truly great; it is only small souls that are made mean-spirited by it.

Why do you pray if you doubt you are heard?

Work cannot convey the almost voluptuous sweetness of the feelings experienced ... in solitude.

The wise expect nothing, hope for nothing, thus avoiding all disappointment and anxiety.

Who knows the flower best? - the one who reads about it in a book, or the one who finds it wild on the mountainside?