Night kisses the fading day whispering to his ear, “I am death, your mother. I am to give you fresh birth.”
Little grass, your steps are small, but you possess the earth beneath you.
God finds himself by creating.
The fish in the water is silent, the animal on the earth is noisy, the bird in the air is singing. But Man has in him the silence of the sea, the noise of the earth and the music of the air.
The trees, like the longings of the earth, stand a - tiptoe to peep at the heaven.
The music of the far - away summer flutters around the autumn seeking its former nest.
Roots are the branches down in the earth. Branches are roots in the air.