The Great Morning which is for all, rises in the East.

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

We live in the world when we love it.

My heart, the bird of the wilderness, has found its sky in your eyes. They are the cradle of the morning, they are the kingdom of the stars. My songs are lost in their depths. Let me but soar in that sky, in its lonely immensity. Let me but cleave its clouds and spread wings in its sunshine.

Inspiration follows aspiration.

For every child that is born, it brings with it the hope that God is not yet disappointed with man.

Not hammer-strokes, but dance of the water, sings the pebbles into perfection.