The tyrant claims freedom to kill freedom, and yet keep it for himself.

Power takes as ingratitude the writhing of its victims

If thou speakest not I will fill my heart with thy silence and endure it. I will keep still and wait like the night with starry vigil and its head bent low with patience. The morning will surely come, the darkness will vanish, and thy voice pour down in golden streams breaking through the sky. Then thy words will take wing in songs from every one of my birds' nests, and thy melodies will break forth in flowers in all my forest groves.

Let my love like sunlight surround you and yet give you illumined freedom.

Do not blame the food because you have no appetite.

False hope is clung to with all one's might and main, till a day comes when it has sucked the heart dry and it forcibly breaks through its bonds and departs. After that comes the misery of awakening, and then once again the longing to get back into the maze of the same mistakes.

The mountain remains unmoved at its seeming defeat by the mist.