And joy is everywhere; it is in the earth's green covering of grass; in the blue serenity of the sky.

This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.

He it is, the innermost one, who awakens my being with his deep hidden touches. He it is who puts his enchantment upon these eyes and joyfully plays on the chords of my heart in varied cadence of pleasure and pain.

Alas, why are my nights all thus lost? Ah, why do I ever miss his sight whose breath touches my sleep?

For man is by nature an artist.

O master poet, I have sat down at thy feet. Only let me make my life simple and straight, like a flute of reed for thee to fill with music.

It sometimes strikes me how immensely fortunate I am that each day should take its place in my life, either reddened with the rising and setting sun, or refreshingly cool with deep, dark clouds, or blooming like a white flower in the moonlight. What untold wealth!