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.

Let me not look for allies in life's battlefield,But to my own strength. Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved,But for the patience to win my freedom.

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.

The movement of life has its rest in its own music.

The Taj Mahal rises above the banks of the river like a solitary tear suspended on the cheek of time.

A butterfly flitting from flower to flower ever remains mine, I lose the one that is netted by me.

The flower fades and dies; but he who wears the flower has not to mourn for it for ever.