making the music of sadness.

45
He has made his weapons his gods. When his weapons win he is
defeated himself.

46
God finds himself by creating.

47
Shadow, with her veil drawn, follows Light in secret meekness,
with her silent steps of love.

48
The stars are not afraid to appear like fireflies.

49
I thank thee that I am none of the wheels of power but I am one
with the living creatures that are crushed by it.

50
The mind, sharp but not broad, sticks at every point but does not
move.

51
Your idol is shattered in the dust to prove that God's dust is
greater than your idol.

52
Man does not reveal himself in his history, he struggles up
through it.

53
While the glass lamp rebukes the earthen for calling it cousin,
the moon rises, and the glass lamp, with a bland smile, calls
her, "My dear, dear sister."

54
Like the meeting of the seagulls and the waves we meet and come
near. The seagulls fly off, the waves roll away and we depart.

55
My day is done, and I am like a boat drawn on the beach,
listening to the dance-music of the tide in the evening.

56
Life is given to us, we earn it by giving it.

57
We come nearest to the great when we are great in humility.

58
The sparrow is sorry for the peacock at the burden of its tail.

59
Never be afraid of the moments--thus sings the voice of the
everlasting.

60
The hurricane seeks the shortest road by the no-road, and
suddenly ends its search in the Nowhere.

61
Take my wine in my own cup, friend.
It loses its wreath of foam when poured into that of others.

62
The Perfect decks itself in beauty for the love of the Imperfect.

63
God says to man, "I heal you therefore I hurt, love you therefore
punish."

64
Thank the flame for its light, but do not forget the lampholder
standing in the shade with constancy of patience.

65
Tiny grass, your steps are small, but you possess the earth under
your tread.

66
The infant flower opens its bud and cries, "Dear World, please do
not fade."

67
God grows weary of great kingdoms, but never of little flowers.

68
Wrong cannot afford defeat but Right can.

69
"I give my whole water in joy," sings the waterfall, "though
little of it is enough for the thirsty."

70
Where is the fountain that throws up these flowers in a ceaseless
outbreak of ecstasy?

71
The woodcutter's axe begged for its handle from the tree.
The tree gave it.

72
In my solitude of heart I feel the si