In Winter The Bare Boughs That Seem

This Dance Is The Joy Of Existence.

Ecstatic Love Is An Ocean, And The Milky Way Is A Flake Of Foam Floating On It.

When Someone Mentions The Gracefulness Of The Night Sky, Climb Up On The Roof And Dance And Say, Like This?

Infinite Mercy Flows Continually But You're Asleep And Can't See It.

Pain Is A Treasure, For It Contains Mercies.