Wait and wait. Most people's lives are spent waiting.

I am a lover and have not found my thing to love.

The writing of words can lead to all sorts of absurdities.

The lives of people are like young trees in a forest. They are being choked by climbing vines. The vines are old thoughts and beliefs planted by dead men.

Work accomplished means little. It is in the past. What we all want is the glorious and living present.

There is within every human being a deep well of thinking over which a heavy iron lid is kept clamped.

What is to be got at to make the air sweet, the ground good under the feet, can only be got at by failure, trial, again and again and again failure.