Some reflections

Though the memory of a man is a temporary thing because his life is but a fleeing moment, there is a quality of immortality in him that is as permanent as the stars.

Thou art the wave and He the Ocean be
Roll back to the Ocean, to end the mystery,
Merge in It, see what becomes of thee,
No more a wave, thou art the sea, the sea,

You are a substance, and the dual worlds are your accidents;
To seek the substance in the accident makes little sense.
The man who looks into the heart for knowledge deserves your tears;
The man who looks into the soul for reason has earned your jeers.

Thyself a true transcription art of the archtype divine,
Or else a glass, wherein the King's Own loveliness doth shine.
Whatever then in all the world without thyself doth lie,
Whatsoever thou carvest, in thyself seek, and declare, 'Tis I!

Death has but one terror, that it has no tomorrow.

It is easier to accept the message of the stars than the message of the sand desert.
The stars speak of man's insignificance in the long eternity of time;
The desert speaks of his insignigicance right now.

A wanderer is man from his birth
   He was born in a ship
On the breast of the river of time.

Tis all a chequer board of Night and Days
Where destiny with man for pieces plays
Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays
and one by one back in the closet lays

My eyes are dim with childish tears
My heart is idly stirred,
For the same sound is in my ears
Which in those days I heard.

Serene, I fold my hands and wait
Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;
I have no more 'gainst time or fate,
For lo! my own shall come to me.

If thou canst walk on water
Thou art no better than a straw,
If thou canst fly in the air thou art no better than a flie,
Conquer thy heart that thou makest be somebody.