The bird has an honor that man does not have. Man lives in the traps of his abdicated laws and traditions; but the birds live according to the natural law of God who causes the earth to turn around the sun.

Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, We fell them down and turn them into paper, That we may record our emptiness.

But memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs a while in the wind and then is heard no more.

He who understands you is greater kin to you than your own brother. For even your own kindred neither understand you nor know your true worth.

Your daily life is your temple and your religion. When you enter into it take with you your all.

All work is empty save when there is love.

Where is the justice of political power if it executes the murderer and jails the plunderer, and then itself marches upon neighboring lands, killing thousands and pillaging the very hills?