Do you think I know what I'm doing? That for one breath or half-breath I belong to myself? As much as a pen knows what it's writing, or the ball can guess where it's going next.
We owe thankfulness to God, not sour faces.
Whatever you are looking for can only be found inside of you.
The soul is here for its own joy.
Without the frown of clouds and lightning, the vines would be burned by the smiling sun.
And don't think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It's quiet, but the roots are down there riotous.