Like the lark that soars in the air, first singing, then silent, content with the last sweetness that satiates it, such seemed to me that image, the imprint of the Eternal Pleasure.

There is a gentle thought that often springs to life in me, because it speaks of you.

Doubting pleases me no less than knowing

Love and the gentle heart are but the same thing.

I care not where my body may take me as long as my soul is embarked on a meaningful journey.

Justice does not descend from its own pinnacle.

I, answering in the end, began: 'Alas, how many yearning thoughts, what great desire, have lead them through such sorrow to their fate?