Gratitude Is A Soil On Which Joy

No Mortal Eye Has Ever Fully Seen A Flash Of Lightning ... For No Matter How Firmly We Look, Our Eyes Are Sure To Be Dazzled.

The Silver-leaved Birch Retains In Its Old Age A Soft Bark; There Are Some Such Men.

In Nature There Is No Dirt, Everything Is In The Right Condition; The Swamp And The Worm, As Well As The Grass And The Bird,-all Is There For Itself.

We Hear The Rain Fall, But Not The Snow. Bitter Grief Is Loud, Calm Grief Is Silent.

What Will People Say-in These Words Lies The Tyranny Of The World, The Whole Destruction Of Our Natural Disposition, The Oblique Vision Of Our Minds. These Four Words Hold Sway Everywhere.