How often have you sailed in my dreams. And now you come in my awakening, which is my deeper dream.

Who are you that men should rend their bosom and unveil their pride, that you may see their worth naked and their pride unabashed? See first that you yourself deserve to be a giver, and an instrument of giving.

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

Spare me the political events and power struggles, as the whole earth is my homeland and all men are my fellow countrymen.

Your life is an island separated from all other islands and continents. Regardless of how many boats you send to other shores or how many ships arrive upon your shores, you yourself are an island separated by its own pains, secluded in its happiness

I have never agreed with my other self wholly. The truth of the matter seems to lie between us.

The lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest, and then becomes a host, and then a master.