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

The world has kissed my Soul with its pain, asking for its return in Songs.

Melody and harmony are like lines and colors in pictures. A simple linear picture may be completely beautiful; the introduction of color may make it vague and insignificant. Yet color may, by combination with lines, create great pictures, so long as it does not smother and destroy their value.

Days come and ages pass, and it is ever he who moves my heart in many a name, in many a guise, in many a rapture of joy and of sorrow. Deliverance is not for me in renunciation. I feel the embrace of freedom in a thousand bonds of delight.

If it is necessary to die in order to live like men, what harm in dying?

Those who have everything but thee, my God, laugh at those who have nothing but thyself.

Asks the Possible of the Impossible, "Where is your dwelling-place?" "In the dreams of the Impotent," comes the answer.