The smile that flickers on a baby’s lips when he sleeps- does anyone know where it was born? Yes, there is a rumor that a young pale beam of a crescent moon touched the edge of a vanishing autumn cloud, and there the smile was first born in the dream of a dew-washed morning.

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

Boasting is only a masked shame; it does not truly believe in itself.

The stars are not afraid to appear like fireflies.

The false can never grow into truth by growing in power.

At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.

I sit at my window gazing The world passes by, nods to me And is gone.