Whenever our life is stirred by truth, it expresses energy and comes to be filled, as it were, with a creative ardor. This consciousness of the creative urge is evidence of the force of truth on our mind.

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.

Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.

My fancies are fireflies Specks of living light twinkling in the dark.

While God waits for His temple to be built of love, men bring stones.

Let the dead have the immortality of fame, but the living the immortality of love.

Oh my only friend, my best beloved, the gates are open in my house—do not pass by like a dream.