God is a cloud from which rain fell.
Faith is a question of eyesight; even the blind can see that.
The light teaches you to convert life into a festive promenade.
Either all lights are turned off or one inner light is missing.
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem but that is impossible; the world has written its own.
What we call life is only talk of nature.
We hear only our own voices, still echoes returning to our emptiness.
There can be no forced inspiration.
Holy books are an insult to a God with good intentions.
Hope without love is hopeless.