The one who plants trees, knowing that he will never sit in their shade, has at least started to understand the meaning of life.
We are like newborn children, Our power is the power to grow.
God seeks comrades and claims love, The devil seeks slaves and claims obedience.
Power takes as ingratitude the writhing of its victims.
If you allow your mind to carp at all and sundry, it will turn against itself: the majority of our sorrows are self-inflicted.
The singer alone does not make a song, there has to be someone who hears. -Broken Song.
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action-Into that heaven of freedom, my father, let my country awake.
Let my thoughts come to you, when I am gone, like the afterglow of sunset at the margin of starry silence.
Plunge into the deep without fear, with the gladness of April in your heart.
Life’s aspirations come in the guise of children.
Man is worse than an animal when he is an animal.
If it is necessary to die in order to live like men, what harm in dying?
To be constantly changing one’s plans isn’t decision at all-it’s indecision.
Your idol is shattered in the dust to prove that God’s dust is greater than your idol.
In the drowsy dark cave of the mind dreams build their nest with fragments dropped from day’s caravan.
That I exist is a perpetual surprise which is life.
Merely to exist is not enough.
Leave out my name from the gift if it be a burden, but keep my song.
Asks the Possible of the Impossible, “Where is your dwelling-place?” “In the dreams of the Impotent,” comes the answer.
Memory, the priestess, kills the present and offers its heart to the shrine of the dead past.