And that heart which was a wild garden was given to him who only loved trim lawns. And the imbecile carried the princess into slavery.

The arms of love encompass you with your present, your past, your future, the arms of love gather you together.

The tender friendships one gives up, on parting, leave their bite on the heart, but also a curious feeling of a treasure somewhere buried.

You cannot plant an acorn in the morning, and expect that afternoon to sit in the shade of an oak.

The field of consciousness is tiny. It accepts only one problem at a time.

The seed haunted by the sun never fails to find its way between the stones in the ground. And the pure logician, if no sun draws him forth, remains entangled in his logic.

Life has meaning only if one barters it day by day for something other than itself.