Traveler, There Is No Path,

My Soul Is Not Asleep. It Is Awake, Wide Awake. It Neither Sleeps Nor Dreams, But Watches, Its Eyes Wide Open Far-off Things, And Listens At The Shores Of The Great Silence.

Last Night As I Was Sleeping, I Dreamt - Marvellous Error! - That It Was God I Had Here Inside My Heart.

Those Who Deny The Existence Of The Truth Postulate The Truth Of Their Denial And Plainly Contradict Themselves.

By Walking One Makes The Road, And Upon Glancing Behind Sees The Path

The Wind, One Brilliant Day, Called To My Soul With An Odor Of Jasmine. "in Return For The Odor Of My Jasmine, I'd Like All The Odor Of Your Roses." "i Have No Roses; All The Flowers In My Garden Are Dead." "well Then, I'll Take The Withered Petals And The Yellow Leaves And The Waters Of The Fountain." The Wind Left. And I Wept. And I Said To Myself: "what Have You Done With The Garden That Was Entrusted To You?