Men hate those to whom they have to lie.

Be as a bird perched on a frail branch that she feels bending beneath her, still she sings away all the same, knowing she has wings.

Great grief is a divine and terrible radiance which transfigures the wretched.

Be happy without picking flaws.

The flesh is the upper surface of the unknown.

Sublime upon sublime scarcely presents a contrast, and we need a little rest from everything, even the beautiful.

I tried. But I feel that I haven't given utterance to the thousandth part of what lies within me. When I go to the grave I can say as others have said, "I have finished my day's work." But I cannot say, "I have finished my life." My day's work will begin again the next morning. The tomb is not a blind alley; it is a thoroughfare. It closes on the twilight, but opens on the dawn.