A weak human mercy walks in the corridors of hospitals and is like a half-thawed winter.

You who think of us: they lived only in delusion... Know that we the People of the Book, will never die!

Evil grows and bears fruit, which is understandable, because it has logic and probability on its side and also, of course, strength. The resistance of tiny kernels of good, to which no one grants the power of causing far-reaching consequences, is entirely mysterious, however. Such seeming nothingness not only lasts but contains within itself enormous energy which is revealed gradually.

A weak human mercy walks in the corridors of hospitals and is like a half-thawed winter.

Leaves glowing in the sun, zealous hum of bumblebees, From afar, from somewhere beyond the river, echoes of lingering voices And the unhurried sounds of a hammer gave joy not only to me. Before the five senses were opened, and earlier than any beginning They waited, ready, for all those who would call themselves mortals, So that they might praise, as I do, life, that is, happiness.

On the day the world ends A bee circles a clover, A fisherman mends a glimmering net.

What has no shadow has no strength to live.