Works of art are of an infinite loneliness and with nothing so little to be reached as with criticism.

Some day when I lose you, will you still be able to sleep, without me to whisper over you like a crown of linden branches?

There may be good, but there are no pleasant marriages.

Destiny itself is like a wonderful wide tapestry in which every thread is guided by an unspeakable tender hand, placed beside another thread and held and carried by a hundred others.

May what I do flow from me like a river, no forcing and no holding back, the way it is with children.

Quiet friend who has come so far, feel how your breathing makes more space around you. Let this darkness be a bell tower and you the bell. As you ring, what batters you becomes your strength. Move back and forth into the change. What is it like, such intensity of pain? If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine. In this uncontainable night, be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses, the meaning discovered there. And if the world has ceased to hear you, say to the silent earth: I flow. To the rushing water, speak: I am.

One moment your life is a stone in you, and the next moment a star!