And As A Single Leaf

You Talk When You Cease To Be At Peace With Your Thoughts.

Prayer Is The Song Of The Heart. It Reaches The Ear Of God Even If It Is Mingled With The Cry And The Tumult Of A Thousand Men.

If Winter Should Say, 'spring Is In My Heart,' Who Would Believe Winter?

Love Is A Gracious Host To His Guests Though To The Unbidden His House Is A Mirage And A Mockery.

Said A Skunk To A Tube-rose, "see How Swiftly I Run, While You Cannot Walk Nor Even Creep." Said The Tube-rose To The Skunk, "oh, Most Noble Swift Runner, Please Run Swiftly!"