God may grand us gifts, but the merit of being able to take and hold them must be our own. Alas for the boons that slip through unworthy hands! - Rabindranath Tagore

He who wants to do good, knocks at the gate; he who loves finds the gates open.

Light, my light, the world-filling light, the eye-kissing light, heart-sweetening light!

Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the centre of my life; the light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love; the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth.

The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light. Lilies and jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light.

The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling, and it scatters gems in profusion.

Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling, and gladness without measure. The heaven's river has drowned its banks and the flood of joy is abroad.

The singer alone does not make a song,
there has to be someone who hears.

-Broken Song