When life does not find a singer to sing her heart she produces a philosopher to speak her mind.

Yes, there is a Nirvanah; it is leading your sheep to a green pasture, and in putting your child to sleep, and in writing the last line of your poem

Tolerance is love sick with the sickness of haughtiness.

Life without love is like a tree without blossoms or fruit.” “Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving

The silence of the envious is too noisy.

He who listens to truth is not less than he who utters truth.

Where can I find a man governed by reason instead of habits and urges?