“For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.”

“And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered. For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.”

“You may give them your love but not your thoughts,For they have their own thoughts.You may house their bodies but not their souls,For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.For life goes not backwards nor tarries with yesterday.”

“Your children are not your children.They are sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. They come through you but not from you.And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.You may give them your love but not your thoughts,For they have their own thoughts.You may house their bodies but not their souls,For thir souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.The archer sees the make upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness.For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He also loves the bow that is stable.”

“The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.”

“THE ROBINO Robin, sing! for the secret of eternity is in song.I wish I were as you, free from prisons and chains.I wish I were as you; a soul flying over the valleys,Sipping the light as wine is sipped from ethereal cups.I wish I were asyou, innocent, contented and happyIgnoring the future and forgetting the past.I wish I were as you in beauty, grace and eleganceWith the wind spreading my wings for adornment by the dew.I wish I were as you in beauty, a thought floating above the landPouring out my songs between the forest and the sky.O Robin, sing! and disperse my anxiety.I listen to the voice within your voicethat whispers in my inner ear;”

“Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself... You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.”