God waits to win back his own flowers as gifts from man's hands.

Those who are near me do not know that you are nearer to me than they are Those who speak to me do not know that my heart is full with your unspoken words Those who crowd in my path do not know that I am walking alone with you Those who love me do not know that their love brings you to my heart

What is Art? It is the response of man's creative soul to the call of the Real.

The tyrant claims freedom to kill freedom, and yet keep it for himself.

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.

God, the Great Giver, can open the whole universe to our gaze in the narrow space of a single land.

Other animals ran only when they had a reason, but the horse would run for no reason whatever, as if to run out of his own skin