Your freedom when it loses its fetters becomes itself the fetter of a greater freedom.

The "I" in me, my friend, dwells in the house of silence, and therein it shall remain for ever more, unperceived, unapproachable.

We are the sons of Sorrow; we are the poets and the prophets and the musicians.

The philosopher's soul dwells in his head, the poet's soul is in his heart; the singer's soul lingers about his throat, but the soul of the dancer abides in all her body.

And as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree.

The voice of life in me cannot reach the ear of life in you; but let us talk that we may not feel lonely.

The silence of the envious is too noisy.