Rights Are To Be Taken, Not Requested;

I Know That When The World Surrenders, Pallid, To Repose, The Murmur Of A Tranquil Stream Through The Deep Silence Flows.

Cultivo Una Rosa Blanca, En Julio Como En Enero, Para El Amigo Sincero Que Me Da Su Mano Franca. Y Para El Cruel Que Me Arranca El Corazon Con Que Vivo, Cardo Ni Oruga Cultivo Cultivo Una Rosa Blanca. I Have A White Rose To Tend In July As In January; I Give It To The True Friend Who Offers His Frank Hand To Me. And To The Cruel One Whose Blows Break The Heart By Which I Live, Thistle Nor Thorn Do I Give: For Him, Too, I Have A White Rose.

Strength Comes From Waiting.

He Who Does Not See Things In Their Depth Should Not Call Himself A Radical.

I Come From All Places And To All Places I Go: I Am Art Among The Arts And Mountain Among Mountains. I Know The Strange Names Of Flowers And Herbs And Of Fatal Deceptions And Magnificent Griefs. In Night's Darkness I've Seen Raining Down On My Head Pure Flames, Flashing Rays Of Beauty Divine.