I do not love him because he is good, but because he is my child.

Where is heaven? you ask me, my child,-the sages tell us it is beyond the limits of birth and death, unswayed by the rhythm of day and night; it is not of the earth. But your poet knows that its eternal hunger is for time and space, and it strives evermore to be born in the fruitful dust. Heaven is fulfilled in your sweet body, my child, in your palpitating heart. The sea is beating its drums in joy, the flowers are a-tiptoe to kiss you. For heaven is born in you, in the arms of the mother- dust.

If it is necessary to die in order to live like men, what harm in dying?

The force of arms only reveals man s weakness.

Great calm, generous detachment, selfless love, disinterested effort: these are what make for success in life. If you can find peace in yourself and can spread comfort around you, you will be happier than an empress.

I have spent many days stringing and unstringing my instrument while the song I came to sing remains unsung.

And joy is everywhere; it is in the earth's green covering of grass; in the blue serenity of the sky.