God grows weary of great kingdoms, but never of little flowers. I give my whole water in joy, sings the waterfall, though little of it is enough for the thirsty. The woodcutters axe begged for its handle from the tree. The tree gave it. In my solitude of heart I feel the sigh of this widowed evening veiled with mist and rain.
Chastity is a wealth that comes from abundance of love.
The mist, like love, plays upon the heart of the hills and bring out surprises of beauty. We read the world wrong and say that it deceives us. The poet wind is out over the sea and the forest to seek his own voice. Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man. The grass seeks her crowd in the earth.