None is poor but the mean in mind, the timorous, the weak, and unbelieving; none is wealthy but the affluent in soul, who is satisfied and floweth over.

As thou directest the power, harm or advantage will follow, and the torrent that swept the valley may be led to turn a mill.

Speech is the golden harvest that followeth the flowering of thought.

O Death, what are thou? nurse of dreamless slumbers freshening the fevered flesh to a wakefulness eternal.

Deep is the sea, and deep is hell, but pride mineth deeper; it is coiled as a poisonous worm about the foundations of the soul.

God, from a beautiful necessity, is Love.

A juggler's skill hath been long years alearning.