I thought that my voyage had come to its end at the last limit of my power, that the path before me was closed, that provisions were exhausted, and the time come to take shelter in a silent obscurity, but I find that thy will knows no end in me, and when old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart, and where the old tracks are lost, new country is revealed with its wonders.

The mountain remains unmoved at its seeming defeat by the mist.

Oh, grant me my prayer, that I may never lose the touch of the one in the play of the many.

By all means they try to hold me secure who love me in this world. But it is otherwise with thy love which is greater than theirs, and thout keepst me free. Lest I forgot them they never venture to leave me alone. But day passes by after day and thou art not seen. If I call not thee in my prayers, if I keep not thee in my heart, thy love for me still waits for my love.

Bravery ceases to be bravery at a certain point, and becomes mere foolhardiness.

Alas, why are my nights all thus lost? Ah, why do I ever miss his sight whose breath touches my sleep?

By touching you may kill, by keeping away you may possess.