If you would rise but a cubit above race and country and self you would indeed become godlike.
If I were you I would not find fault with the sea at low tide.
It is a good ship and our captain is able; it is only your stomach that is in disorder.
Should you sit upon a cloud you would not see the boundary line between one country and another, nor the boundary stone between a farm and a farm.
It is a pity you cannot sit upon a cloud.
Seven centuries ago seven white doves rose from a deep valley flying to the snow-white summit of the mountain. One of the seven men who watched the flight said, “I see a black spot on the wing of the seventh dove.”
Today the people in that valley tell of seven black doves who flew to the summit of the snowy mountain.
In the autumn I gathered all my sorrows and buried them in my garden.
And when April returned and spring came to wed the earth, there grew in my garden beautiful flowers unlike all other flowers.
And my neighbors came to behold them, and they all said to me, “When autumn comes again, at seeding time, will you give us of the seeds of these flowers that we may have them in our gardens?”
It is indeed misery if I stretch an empty hand to men and receive nothing;
but it is hopelessness if I stretch a full hand and find none to receive.
I long for eternity because there I shall meet my unwritten