God waits to win back his own flowers as gifts from man's hands. - Rabindranath Tagore

The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures. It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.

When we rejoice in our fulness, then we can part with our fruits with joy.

I slept and dreamt that life was joy. I awoke and saw that life was service. I acted and behold, service was joy.