I am like God and God like me. I am as large as God. He is as small as I. He cannot above me nor I beneath him be.

God does not care what good you did, but why you did it. He does not grade the fruit but probes the core and tests the root.

The Rose which here on earth is now perceived by me, has blossomed thus in god from all eternity.

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

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

I am like God and God like me. I am as large as God. He is as small as I. He cannot above me nor I beneath him be.

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