The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.

I don't want to die. But I want to be dead.

You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven / That God has hidden your face?

It is not reason which makes faith hard, but life.

I am athirst for God, the living God.

And old affront will stir the heart Through years of rankling pain.

I am glad to think I am not bound to make the world go right, but only to discover and to do, with cheerful heart, the work that God appoints.