Not one drop of blood is left inside my veins that does not throb: I recognize signs of the ancient flame.

Here my powers rest from their high fantasy, but already I could feel my being turned- instinct and intellect balanced equally. as in a wheel whose motion nothing jars- by the Love that moves the Sun and the other stars.

Three things remain with us from paradise: stars, flowers and children.

The glory of Him who moves everything penetrates through the universe, and is resplendent in one part more and in another less.

At grief so deep the tongue must wag in vain; the language of our sense and memory lacks the vocabulary of such pain.

If you follow your natural bent;you will definitely go to heaven

No man may be so cursed by priest or pope but what the Eternal Love may still return while any thread of green lives on in hope.