The traveler has to knock at every alien door to come to his own, and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end.

Now it is time to sit quiet, face to face with thee, and to sing dedication of life in this silent and overflowing leisure.

The heart wants to go on; that is its dharma. For unless it moves, it dies.

The one who plants trees, knowing that he will never sit in their shade, has at least started to understand the meaning of life.

Power takes as ingratitude the writhing of its victims

At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.

Let not the hours pass by in the dark. Kindle the lamp of love with thy life.