None lives for ever, brother, and… Our life is not the one old burden… One sole poet has not to sing one… The flower fades and dies; but he… Brother, keep that in mind and rej…

I travelled the old road every day… my cattle to the meadows, I ferrie… all the ways were well known to me… One morning my basket was heavy wi… the fields, the pastures crowded w…

It is only the revelation of You… that is endlessly new and eternall… and that gives the only meaning to… we feel Your rhythmic throb as sou… world in our own souls; then are w…

If baby only wanted to, he could f… It is not for nothing that he does… He loves to rest his head on mothe… bear to lose sight of her. Baby know all manner of wise words…

Man goes into the noisy crowd to drown his own clamour of silenc… Man is immortal; therefore he must… For life is a creative idea; it can only find itself in changin…

“Ah, poet, the evening draws near; your hair is turning grey.” “Do you in your lonely musing hear the message of the hereafter?” “It is evening,” the poet said, “and I am listening beca...

In the night of weariness let me give myself up to sleep wit… resting my trust upon thee. Let me not force my flagging spiri… It is thou who drawest the veil of…

21 THEY throw their shadows before… who carry their lantern on their b… 22 THAT I exist

Life is given to us, we earn it by giving it. Let the dead have the immortality… but the living the immortality of… Life’s errors cry for the merciful…

I plucked your flower, O world! I pressed it to my heart and the t… When the day waned and it darkened… More flowers will come to you with… But my time for flower-gathering i…