Behold me! I am worthy Of thy loving, for I love thee!

Who can fear Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll- Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year? Say thou dost love me, love me, love me-toll The silver iterance!-only minding, Dear, To love me also in silence, with thy soul.

He who breathes deepest lives most.

What frightens me is that men are content with what is not life at all.