Springtime is at hand. When will you ever bloom, if not here and now?

The one awakened liberated sees all things as one unseparated.

Springtime is at hand. When will you ever bloom, if not here and now?

What is outside yourself does not convey much worth; Clothes do not make the man, the saddle not the horse.

We keep so busy talking we are so keen to act that we forget that in the heart lies all we need untapped, intact.

The rose does not have a why; it blossums without reason, forgetful of self and oblivious to our vision.

The Rose is without 'why'—she blooms because she blooms.