The smile that flickers on a baby’s lips when he sleeps- does anyone know where it was born? Yes, there is a rumor that a young pale beam of a crescent moon touched the edge of a vanishing autumn cloud, and there the smile was first born in the dream of a dew-washed morning.
The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures. It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.
Children are living beings – more living than grown-up people who have built shells of habit around themselves. Therefore it is absolutely necessary for their mental health and development that they should not have mere schools for their lessons, but a world whose guiding spirit is personal love.
“You are the big drop of dew under the lotus leaf, I am the smaller one on its upper side,” said the dewdrop to the lake.
The stars are not afraid to appear like fireflies.
The real friendship is like fluorescence, it shines better when everything has darkened.
The roots below the earth claim no rewards for making the branches fruitful.
The greed for fruit misses the flower.
Let me light my lamp”, says the star, “And never debate if it will help to remove the darkness.
Whatever we understand and enjoy in human products instantly becomes ours, wherever they might have their origin... Let me feel with unalloyed gladness that all the great glories of man are mine.
The Stronger is the imagination the less imaginary it is.
The water vessel, taken as a vessel only, raises the question, “Why does it exist at all?” Through its fitness of construction, it offers the apology for its existence. But where it is a work of beauty it has no question to answer; it has nothing to do, but to be.
Away from the sight of thy face my heart knows no rest nor respite, and my work becomes an endless toil in a shoreless sea of toil.
I have my stars in the sky, but oh for my little lamp unlit in my house.
The little flower lies in the dust. It sought the path of the butterfly.
Do not say, ‘It is morning,’ and dismiss it with a name of yesterday. See it for the first time as a newborn child that has no name.
Trees are the earth’s endless effort to speak to the listening heaven.
Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark.
We manage to swallow flesh, only because we do not think of the cruel and sinful thing we do.
The newer people of this modern age are more eager to amass than to realize.