The progress of our soul is like a perfect poem. It has an infinite idea which, once realised, makes all movements full of meaning and joy.

The potentiality of perfection outweighs actual contradictions... Existence in itself is here to prove that it cannot be an evil.

The birth and death of leaves is part of that greater cycle that moves among the stars.

Time is a wealth of change, but the clock in its parody makes it mere change and no wealth.

In death the many become one; in life the one become many.

Our scientific world is our world of reasoning. It has its greatness and uses and attractions. We are ready to pay homage due to it. But when it claims to have discovered the real world for us and laughs at the worlds of all simple-minded men, then we must say it is like a general grown intoxicated with his power, usurping the throne of his king

Let me not look for allies in life's battlefield,But to my own strength. Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved,But for the patience to win my freedom.