Lying in a featherbed will bring you no fame, nor staying beneath the quilt, and he who uses up his life without achieving fame leaves no more vestige of himself on Earth than smoke in the air or foam upon the water.

Love can move the Sun and the stars.

You shall leave everything you love.

Stand firm as the tower that never shakes its top whatever wind may blow.

What shall one do with the verse, if he knows not That?

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.

At this high moment, ability failed my capacity to describe.