Deliverance is not for me in renunciation. I feel the embrace of freedom in a thousand bonds of delight.

Power takes as ingratitude the writhing of its victims

Bees sip honey from flowers and hum their thanks when they leave. The gaudy butterfly is sure that the flowers owe thanks to him.

If you allow your mind to carp at all and sundry, it will turn against itself: the majority of our sorrows are self-inflicted.

Love remains a secret even when spoken, for only a true lover truly knows that he is loved.

It is in the very heart of our activity that we search for our goal.

There is no "next" after you are dead and gone from your own world.