181 My flower of the day dropped its petals forgotten. In the evening it ripens into a golden fruit of memory.
182 I am like the road in the night listening to the footfalls of its memories in silence.
183 The evening sky to me is like a window, and a lighted lamp, and a waiting behind it.
184 He who is too busy doing good finds no time to be good.
185 I am the autumn cloud, empty of rain, see my fulness in the field of ripened rice.
186 They hated and killed and men praised them. But God in shame hastens to hide its memory under the green grass.
187 Toes are the fingers that have forsaken their past.
188 Darkness travels towards light, but blindness towards death.
189 The pet dog suspects the universe for scheming to take its place.
190 Sit still my heart, do not raise your dust. Let the world find its way to you.
191 The bow whispers to the arrow before it speeds forth--"Your freedom is mine."
192 Woman, in your laughter you have the music of the fountain of life.
193 A mind all logic is like a knife all blade. It makes the hand bleed that uses it.
194 God loves man's lamp lights better than his own great stars.
195 This world is the world of wild storms kept tame with the music of beauty.
196 "My heart is like the golden casket of thy kiss," said the sunset cloud to the sun.
197 By touching you may kill, by keeping away you may possess.
198 The cricket's chirp and the patter of rain come to me through the dark, like the rustle of dreams from my past youth.
199 "I have lost my dewdrop," cries the flower to the morning sky that has lost all its stars.
200 The burning log bursts in flame and cries,--"This is my flower, my death."
