If you shed tears when you miss the sun, you also miss the stars.

The world has kissed my Soul with its pain, asking for its return in Songs.

If someone smells a flower and says he does not understand, the reply to him is: there is nothing to understand, it is only a scent. If he persists, saying: that I know, but what does it all mean? Then one has either to change the subject, or make it more abstruse by saying that the scent is the shape which the universal joy takes in the flower.

We are like newborn children, Our power is the power to grow.

Once we dreamt that we were strangers. We wake up to find that we were dear to each other.

The movement of life has its rest in its own music.

The burden of the self is lightened with I laugh at myself.