Age considers; youth ventures.
Men are cruel, but Man is kind.
Bigotry tries to keep truth safe in its hand with a grip that kills it.
And it shall be my endeavour to reveal thee in my actions, knowing it is thy power gives me strength to act.
O master poet, I have sat down at thy feet. Only let me make my life simple and straight, like a flute of reed for thee to fill with music.
The music of the far-away summer flutters around the Autumn seeking its former nest.
The speech of my heart will be carried on in murmurings of a song.
At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
Man is immortal; therefore he must die endlessly. For life is a creative idea; it can only find itself in changing forms.
The danger inherent in all force grows stronger when it is likely to gain success, for then it becomes temptation.
The first flower that blossomed on this earth was an invitation to an unborn song.
To the birds you gave songs, the birds gave you songs in return. You gave me only a voice, yet asked for more, thus I sing.
Everything has sprung from immortal life and is vibrating with life, for life is immense!
Saltwater heals, healing referring to its various forms; tears, cleanses and heals the soul; sweat, cleanses through labor; the ocean, heals in all its forms.
I am hidden in your heart, O Flower.
Other animals ran only when they had a reason, but the horse would run for no reason whatever, as if to run out of his own skin.
Yes, all my illusions will burn into illumination of joy, and all my desires ripen into fruits of love.
Someone spilled the ink on the canvas. Now boasts: “I painted the night”.
Those who have everything but thee, my God, laugh at those who have nothing but thyself.
Days are coloured bubbles that float upon the surface of fathomless nights.