All That Spirits Desire, Spirits Attain.

Only Those Beneath Me Can Envy Or Hate Me. I Have Never Been Envied Nor Hated; I Am Above No One. Only Those Above Me Can Praise Or Belittle Me. I Have Never Been Praised Nor Belittled; I Am Below No One.

He Alone Is Great Who Turns The Voice Of The Wind Into A Song Made Sweeter By His Own Loving.

Let There Be No Purpose In Friendship Save The Deepening Of The Spirit.

I Am One Of Those Who Believe That Spiritual Progress Is A Rule Of Human Life, But The Approach To Perfection Is Slow And Painful. If A Woman Elevates Herself In One Respect And Is Retarded In Another, It Is Because The Rough Trail That Leads To The Mountain Peak Is Not Free Of Ambushes Of Thieves And Lairs Of Wolves.

Poetry, My Dear Friends, Is A Sacred Incarnation Of A Smile. Poetry Is A Sigh That Dries The Tears. Poetry Is A Spirit Who Dwells In The Soul, Whose Nourishment Is The Heart, Whose Wine Is Affection. Poetry That Comes Not In This Form Is A False Messiah.