Hope is the second soul of the unhappy.

He is dead in this world who has no belief in another.

Only by joy and sorrow does a person know anything about themselves and their destiny. They learn what to do and what to avoid.

You can’t, if you can’t feel it, if it never Rises from the soul, and sways The heart of every single hearer, With deepest power, in simple ways. You’ll sit forever, gluing things together, Cooking up a stew from other’s scraps, Blowing on a miserable fire, Made from your heap of dying ash. Let apes and children praise your art, If their admiration’s to your taste, But you’ll never speak from heart to heart, Unless it rises up from your heart’s space.

The flowers are full of honey, but only the bee finds out the sweetness.

Colors are the deeds/ and sufferings of light.

The day is for mistake and error, sequence of time for success and carrying out. The one who anticipates is master of the day.