I have read in books that we are called 'caged birds'. I cannot speak for others, but I had so much in this cage of mine that there was not room for it in the universe- at least that is what I then felt.

My eyes have seen much, but they are not weary. My ears have heard much, but they thirst for more.

My heart, the bird of the wilderness, has found its sky in your eyes. They are the cradle of the morning, they are the kingdom of the stars. My songs are lost in their depths. Let me but soar in that sky, in its lonely immensity. Let me but cleave its clouds and spread wings in its sunshine.

I never give answers. I lead on from one question to another. That is my leadership.

Art awakens a sense of real by establishing an intimate relationship between our inner being and the universe at large, bringing us a consciousness of deep joy.

The sparrow is sorry for the peacock at the burden of its tail.

Perhaps the crescent moon smiles in doubt at being told that it is a fragment awaiting perfection.