YOU are the big drop of dew under the lotus leaf, I am the smaller one on its upper side,' said the dewdrop to the lake.

This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.

My debts are large, my failures great, my shame secret and heavy; yet I come to ask for my good, I quake in fear lest my prayer be granted.

By touching you may kill, by keeping away you may possess.

The child ever dwells in the mystery of ageless time, unobscured by the dust of history.

The same stream of life that runs through the world runs through my veins night and day.