The Rose is without 'why'—she blooms because she blooms.

I am as vast as God; there is nothing in the world_x000D_ _x000D_ O Miracle: that can shut me up in myself.

Time is of your own making;_x000D_ _x000D_ Its clock ticks in your head._x000D_ _x000D_ The moment you stop thought_x000D_ _x000D_ Time too stops dead.

Paradise is at your own center; unless you find it there, there is no way to enter.

If in your heart you make a manger for his birth then God will once again become a child on earth.

Springtime is at hand. When will you ever bloom, if not here and now?