Whatever we treasure for ourselves separates us from others; our possessions are our limitations.

To the birds you gave songs, the birds gave you songs in return. You gave me only a voice, yet asked for more, thus I sing.

The greed for fruit misses the flower.

Mistakes live in the neighbourhood of truth and therefore delude us.

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

If you allow your mind to carp at all and sundry, it will turn against itself: the majority of our sorrows are self-inflicted.

For many years, at great cost, I traveled through many countries, saw the high mountains, the oceans. The only things I did not see were the sparkling dewdrops in the grass just outside my door.