do not seat your love upon a precipice because it is high.

i sit at my window this morning where the world like a passer-by stops for a moment, nods to me and goes.

these little thoughts are the rustle of leaves,;they have their whisper of job in my mind.

what you are you do not see, what you see is your shadow.

my wishes are fools, they shout across thy songs, my master, let me but listen.

i cannot choose the best, the best chooses me.

thay throw their shadows before them who carry their lantern on their back.

that i exist is a perpetual surprise which is life.

we, the rustling leaves, have a voice that answers the storms, but who are you so silent?
i am a mere flower.

rest belongs to the work as the eyelids to the eyes.

man is a born child, his power is the power of growth.

god expects answers for the flowers he sends us, not for the sun and the earth.

the light that plays, like a naked child, among the green leaves happily knows not that man can lie.

o beauty, find thyself in love, not in the flattery of thy mirror.

my heart beats her waves at the shore of the world and writes upon it her signature in tears with the words, i love thee!