A little rain will fill The lily’s cup which hardly moistens the field.

No power on earth compares to a mother’s tender prayers.

Like a plank of driftwood Tossed on the watery main, Another plank encountered, Meets, touches, parts again; So tossed, and drifting ever, On life’s unresting sea, Men meet, and greet, and sever, Parting eternally.

Not a piece of architecture, as other buildings are, but the proud passions of an emperor’s love wrought in living stones.

Sleep – death without dying – living, but not life.

Almond blossom, sent to teach us That the spring days soon will reach us.

Within yourself deliverance must be searched for, because each man makes hiw own prison.

Pity makes the world soft to the weak and noble to the strong.

What good I see humbly I seek to do, And live obedient to the law, in trust That what will come, and must come, shall come well.

We are the voices of the wandering wind, Which moan for rest and rest can never find; Lo! as the wind is so is mortal life, A moan, a sigh, a sob, a storm, a strife.