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albatross

Chastity is a wealth that comes from abundance of love.

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The mist, like love, plays upon the heart of the hills and bring out surprises of beauty.

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We read the world wrong and say that it deceives us.

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The poet wind is out over the sea and the forest to seek his own voice.

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Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man.

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The grass seeks her crowd in the earth.

The tree seeks his solitude of the sky.

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Man barricades against himself.

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Your voice, my friend, wanders in my heart, like the muffled sound of the sea among these listening pines.

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What is this unseen flame of darkness whose sparks are the stars?

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Let life be beautiful like summer flowers and death like autumn leaves.

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He who wants to do good knocks at the gate; he who loves finds the gate open.

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In death the many becomes one; in life the one becomes many.

Religion will be one when God is dead.

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The artist is the lover of Nature, therefore he is her slave and her master.

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- How far are you from me, O Fruit?

- I am hidden in your heart, O Flower.

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This longing is for the one who is felt in the dark, but not seen in the day.

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You are the big drop of dew under the lotus leaf, I am the smaller one on its upper side, said the dew drop to the lake.

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The scabbard is content to be dull when it protects the keenness of the sword.

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In darkness the One appears as uniform; in the light the One appears as manifold.

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The great earth makes herself hospitable with the help of the grass.

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The birth and death of the leaves are the rapid whirls of the eddy whose wider circles move slowly among stars.

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Power said to the world, You are mine.
The world kept it prisoner on her throne.
Love said to the world, I am thine.
The world gave it the freedom of her house.

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The mist is like the earth's desire.
It hides the sun for whom she cries.

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Be still, my heart, these great trees are prayers.

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The noise of the moment scoffs at the music of the Eternal.

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I think of other ages that floated upon the stream of life and love and death and are forgotten, and I feel the freedom of passing away.

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The sadness of my soul is her bride's veil.
It waits to be lifted in the night.

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Death's stamp gives value to the coin of life; making it possible to buy with life what is truly precious.

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The cloud stood humbly in a corner of the sky.
The morning crowned it with splendour.

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The dust receives insult and in return offers her flowers.

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Do not linger to gather flowers to keep them, but walk on, for flowers will keep themselves blooming all your way.