Like threads of silver seen through crystal beads Let love through good deeds show.
There is no caste in blood.
Early violets blue and white Dying for their love of light.
Not a piece of architecture, as other buildings are, but the proud passions of an emperor's love wrought in living stones.
A little rain will fill The lily's cup which hardly moistens the field.
For death, Now I know, is that first breath Which our souls draw when we enter Life, which is of all life center.