The Tree Is A Slow, Enduring Force

The Tender Friendships One Gives Up, On Parting, Leave Their Bite On The Heart, But Also A Curious Feeling Of A Treasure Somewhere Buried.

It Is As A Soldier That You Make Love And As A Lover That You Make War.

One's Suffering Disappears When One Lets Oneself Go, When One Yields - Even To Sadness.

I Have Always Loved The Desert. One Sits Down On A Desert Sand Dune, Sees Nothing, Hears Nothing. Yet Through The Silence Something Throbs, And Gleams.

How Desperately Difficult It Is To Be Honest With Oneself. It Is Much Easier To Be Honest With Other People.what Is True Is Invisible To The Eye. It Is Only With The Heart That One Can See Clearly.