Life itself is a strange mixture. We have to take it as it is, try to understand it, and then to better it.

I have read in books that we are called 'caged birds'. I cannot speak for others, but I had so much in this cage of mine that there was not room for it in the universe- at least that is what I then felt.

Poems On Life: Life is given to us, we earn it by giving it. Let the dead have the immortality of fame, but the living the immortality of love. Life's errors cry for the merciful beauty that can modulate their isolation into a harmony with the whole. Life, like a child, laughs, shaking its rattle of death as it runs.

The delights of sight and hearing and touch will bear thy delight.

He who wants to do good knocks at the gate: he who loves finds the door open.

When we rejoice in our fullness, then we can part with our fruits with joy.

The infinite being has assumed unto himself the mystery of finitude. And in him who is love the finite and the infinite are made one.