Conscience Is A Just But Weak Judge.

We Live Only To Discover Beauty. All Else Is A Form Of Waiting

Always You Have Been Told That Work Is A Curse And Labor A Misfortune. But I Say To You That When You Work You Fulfill A Part Of Earth's Furthest Dream, Assigned To You When That Dream Was Born.

I Want Every Image To Be The Beginning Of An Unseen Image.

He Who Defines His Conduct By Ethics Imprisons His Song-bird In A Cage.

Yet The Timeless In You Is Aware Of Life's Timelessness, And Knows That Yesterday Is But Today's Memory And Tomorrow Is Today's Dream. And That That Which Sings And Contemplates In You Is Still Dwelling Within The Bounds Of That First Moment Which Scattered The Stars Into Space. Who Among You Does Not Feel That His Power To Love Is Boundless? And Yet Who Does Not Feel That Very Love, Though Boundless, Encompassed Within The Centre Of His Being, And Moving Not From Love Thought To Love Thought, Nor From Love Deeds To Other Love Deeds? And Is Not Time Even As Love Is, Undivided And Paceless?