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

The snow and the storm destroy the flower; but its seed they cannot kill.

I came here to be for all and with all, and what I do today in my solitude will be echoed tomorrow by the multitude. What I say now with one heart will be said tomorrow by thousands of hearts.

Oh heart, if one should say to you that the soul perishes like the body, answer that the flower withers, but the seed remains.

The soul is an embryo in the body of Man, and the day of death is the Day of awakening, for it is the Great era of labour and the rich Hour of creation.

Our anxiety does not come from thinking about the future, but from wanting to control it.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.