“may my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living”

“may my heart always be open to littlebirds who are the secrets of livingwhatever they sing is better than to knowand if men should not hear them men are old may my mind stroll about hungryand fearless and thirsty and suppleand even if it's sunday may i be wrongfor whenever men are right they are not young and may myself do nothing usefullyand love yourself so more than trulythere's never been quite such a fool who could failpulling all the sky over him with one smile”

“It was as if every day a piece of my heart was plucked out by birds and carried away little by little.”

“There is nothing more wonderful than a book. It may be a message to us from the dead, from human souls we never saw who lived perhaps thousands of miles away, and yet these little sheets of paper speak to us, arouse us, teach us, open our hearts and in turn open their hearts to us like brothers. Without books, God is silent, justice dormant, philosophy lame.”

“*We give so little when it's in us always to give so much more.It's bothering to listen with an open heart to someone who smells bad. It's hard.”

“A secret in his mouth, is like a wild bird put into a cage; whose door no sooner opens, but 'tis out.”