He Who Requires Urging To Do A

Yet Has Not Man Wept At The Sounds? And Are Not His Tears Eloquent Understanding?

My Loneliness Was Born When Men Praised My Talkative Faults And Blamed My Silent Virtues.

Solitude Is A Silent Storm That Breaks Down All Our Dead Branches; Yet It Sends Our Living Roots Deeper Into The Living Heart Of The Living Earth.

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

It Was But Yesterday I Thought Myself A Fragment Quivering Without Rhythm In The Sphere Of Life. Now I Know That I Am The Sphere, And All Life In Rhythmic Fragments Moves Within Me.