I'm lost in the middle of my birthday. I want my friends, their touch, with the earth's last love. I will take life's final offering, I will take the last human blessing.

Love's over brimming mystery joins death and life. It has filled my cup of pain with joy.

There are men whose idea of life is tactic, who long for its continuation after death only because of their wish for permanence and not perfection; they love to imagine that the things to which they are accustomed will persist for ever. They complete

Death belongs to life as birth does. The walk is in the raising of the foot as in the laying of it down.

Even he whose near ones have all died, one by one, is not alone-companionship comes for him from behind the screen of death.

The fish in the water is silent, the animals on the earth is noisy, the bird in the air is singing. But man has in him the silence of the sea, the noise of the earth and the music of the air.