I dream of a star, an island of light, where I shall be born and in the depth of its quickening leisure my life will ripen its works like the rice-field in the autumn sun.
The smel of the wet earth in the rain rises like a great chant of praise from the voiceless multiude of the insignificant
That love can ever lose is a fact that we cannot accept as truth.
We shall know some day that death can never rob us of that which our soul has gained, for her gains are one with herself.
God comes to me in the dusk of my evening with the flowers from my past kept fresh in his basket.