“Some day I shall sing to thee in the sunrise of some other world, I have seen thee before in the light of the earth, in the love of man.”

Love is an endless mystery, because there is no reasonable cause that could explain it.

Everything comes to us that belongs to us if we create the capacity to receive it.

I have spent many days stringing and unstringing my instrument while the song I came to sing remains unsung.

Not hammer-strokes, but dance of the water, sings the pebbles into perfection.

We cross infinity with every step; we meet eternity in every step.

Love’s gift cannot be given, it waits to be accepted.

Don’t limit a child to your own learning, for she was born in another time.

The stars are not afraid to appear like fireflies.

The small wisdom is like water in a glass, clear, transparent, pure. The great wisdom is like the water in the sea: dark, mysterious, impenetrable.

Love does not claim possession, but gives freedom.

Nirvana is not the blowing out of the candle. It is the extinguishing of the flame because day is come.

Come oh come ye tea-thirsty restless ones -the kettle boils, bubbles and sings, musically.

Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it.

Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.

By plucking her petals you do not gather the beauty of the flower.

The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.

Buildings, too, are children of Earth and Sun.

Trees are the earth’s endless effort to speak to the listening heaven.

If I were the earth it would disgust me, all this vermin on my back, I’d shake it off.

I know that fewer people are won over by the written word than by the spoken word and that every great movement on this earth owes its growth to great speakers and not to great writers.

Success is the sole earthly judge of right and wrong.

The earth doesn’t need to go to meet the sky. True love is the one that doesn’t get a destination.

She spills the oceans of words and feelings on the pages of earth, transforming it into the green blooming planet.

Rain is the warm softness of a mother’s hand as she soothingly dabs that nasty smelling ointment on that bruised kneecap of yours, her delicate features creased with worry.