“Love is the only gold.”

Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control; these three alone lead one to sovereign power.

All things human change.

A lie that is half-truth is the darkest of all lies.

Silence, beautiful voice.

Nothing in Nature is unbeautiful.

More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.

Shape your heart to front the hour, but dream not that the hours will last.

Tis held that sorrow makes us wise.

Speak to Him, thou, for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet- Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.

My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure.

The words ‘far, far away’ had always a strange charm.

I sometimes find it half a sin, to put to words the grief I feel, For words like nature, half reveal, and half conceal the soul within.

Faith is believing what we cannot prove.

Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?

I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.

Rich in saving common-sense, And, as the greatest only are, In his simplicity sublime.

I’m late to everything. I’ve always wanted to have it written in my will that when I die, the coffin shows up a half hour late and says on the side, like in gold, ‘Sorry I’m Late’.

Sicknesses, losses, crosses, anxieties and disappointments seem absolutely needful to keep us humble, watchful and spiritual-minde d. They are as needful as the pruning knife to the vine and the refiner’s furnace to the gold.

Silence is golden but when it threatens your freedom it’s yellow.

Where you stumble and fall, there you will find gold.

Golden bracelets, diamonds and rare blue pearls. New gadgets and sparkling shoes, Things I do not own left languishing in the wooden drawer I do not have. I am too busy walking in parks admiring the city from afar and mesmerising dancing trees.

All those golden autumn days the sky was full of wings. Wings beating low over the blue water of Silver Lake, wings beating high in the blue air far above it bearing them all away to the green fields in the South.

I think gold is made for kings and pharaohs – that’s what I am.

For understanding in spiritual matters, the golden rule is not intellect but obedience.