I am restless. I am athirst for faraway things. My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance. O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute! I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore.

Memory, the priestess, kills the present and offers its heart to the shrine of the dead past.

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.

And it shall be my endeavour to reveal thee in my actions, knowing it is thy power gives me strength to act.

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

Death belongs to life as birth does The walk is in the raising of the foot as in the laying of it down

The infinite being has assumed unto himself the mystery of finitude. And in him who is love the finite and the infinite are made one.