God grows weary of great kingdoms, but never of little flowers
Wrong cannot afford defeat but Right can.
I give my whole water in joy,
it is enough for the thirsty.
Where is the fountain that throws up these flowers in a ceaseless
outbreak of ecstasy?
The woodcutter's axe begged for its handle from the tree.
The tree gave it.
In my solitude of heart I feel the sigh of this widowed evening veiled
with mist and rain.
Chastity is a wealth that comes from abundance of love.
The mist, like love, plays upon the heart of the hills and bring out
surprises of beauty.