All it has experienced, tasted, suffered: The course of years, generations of animals, Oppression, recovery, friendship of sun and - Wind Will pour forth each day in the song Of its rustling foliage, in the friendly Gesture of its gently swaying crown, In the delicate sweet scent of resinous Sap moistening the sleep-glued buds, And the eternal game of lights and Shadows it plays with itself, content.

Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell.

So you find yourself surrounded by death and horror in the world, and you escape it into lust. But lust has no duration; it leaves you again in the desert.

A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening...

The river taught us how to listen with a silent heart, with a waiting open soul.

Words can not express the joy of new life.

Never is a man wholly a saint or a sinner.