Grant me that I may not be a coward, feeling your mercy in my success alone; but let me find the grasp of your hand in my failure.

I thought that my voyage had come to its end at the last limit of my power, that the path before me was closed, that provisions were exhausted, and the time come to take shelter in a silent obscurity, but I find that thy will knows no end in me, and when old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart, and where the old tracks are lost, new country is revealed with its wonders.

A message came from my youth of vanished days, saying, 'I wait for you among the quivering of unborn May, where smiles ripen for tears and hours ache with songs unsung.' It says, 'Come to me across the worn-out track of age, through the gates of death. For dreams fade, hopes fail, the fathered fruits of the year decay, but I am the eternal truth, and you shall meet me again and again in your voyage of life from shore to shore.

I am hidden in your heart, O Flower.

The truth comes as conqueror only because we have lost the art of receiving it as guest.

Power takes as ingratitude the writhing of its victims

My day is done, and I am like a boat drawn on the beach, listening to the dance-music of the tide in the evening.