The first thought of God was an angel. The first word of God was a man

Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?

Poetry is not the opinion stated. It is a song that appears instead of a bloody wound or a smiling mouth.

Love is the only flower that grows and blossoms without the aid of the seasons

When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music. Which of you would be a reed, dumb and silent, when all else sings together in unison?

For the breath of life is in the sunlight and the hand of life is in the wind.

You may give them your love, but not your thoughts. For they have their own thoughts.