Days are coloured bubbles that float upon the surface of fathomless nights.

Languages are jealous sovereigns, and passports are rarely allowed for travellers to cross their strictly guarded borders.

Pessimism is a form of mental dipsomania; it disdains healthy nourishment, indulges in the strong drink of denunciation, and creates an artificial dejection which thirsts for a stronger draught.

O master poet, I have sat down at thy feet. Only let me make my life simple and straight, like a flute of reed for thee to fill with music.

Poems On Time The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough. Time is a wealth of change, but the clock in its parody makes it mere change and no wealth. Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time like dew on the tip of a leaf.

I sit at my window gazing The world passes by, nods to me And is gone.

Unless you have found God in your own soul, the whole world will seem meaningless to you.