..while I was happy enough to pray to any god, knowing that they were simply different faces created by men, of one indivisible truth.

She entered a state where prayer and poetry became one and the everyday world seemed full of holiness and significance.

When illusions are shattered by truth, talent is set free.

Death comes suddenly and life is fragile and brief. No one can alter this either by prayers or spells.

But just as the river is always at the door, so is the world always outside. And it is in the world that we have to live.

I am not made for despair

How was it possible for the world to be so beautiful and so cruel at the same time?