Is not the beautiful moon, that inspires poets, the same moon which angers the silence of the sea with a terrible roar?

Tell your secret to the wind, but don't blame it for telling the trees.

I love you, my brother, whoever you are - whether you worship in a church, kneel in your temple, or pray in your mosque. You and I are children of one faith, for the diverse paths of religion are fingers of the loving hand of the one supreme being, a hand extended to all, offering completeness of spirit to all, eager to receive all.

You often say, "I would give, but only to the deserving." The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture. They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish.

Tortoises can tell you more about the road than hares.

Mother: the most beautiful word on the lips of mankind.

Rebellion without truth is like spring in a bleak, arid desert.