“A thousand trills and quivering sounds
In airy circles o'er us fly,
Till, wafted by a gentle breeze,
They faint and languish by degrees,
And at a distance die.”

“To waft a feather or to drown a fly.”

“And every bird I ever knew
Back and forth in the summer flew;
And breezes wafted over me
The scent of every flower and tree:
Till I forgot the pain and gloom
And silence of my darkened room”

“In a life, most of us turn no more than 45 degrees. Not much
compared to those who turn full-circle in the slighest breeze
or those who totally uncoil, but enough in the end
to tell a bag of diamonds from a sack of coal.”

“The mountains, too, at a distance appear airy masses and smooth, but seen near at hand, they are rough.”

“I wonder that religion can live or die on the strength of a faint, stirring breeze. The scent trail shifts, causing the predator to miss the pounce. One god draws in the breath of life and rises; another god expires.”

“Our life a dazzling dream and the death a new arrival,
there is no end and never was a begginning.
Thousand centuries will gone and will leave faint signs
in the breaths of time, thousand suns will light up
and will burst and unexpected visitors
will come and will gone,
but something innate in us knows,
we were, we are, and will be forever,
a timeless gentle touch in eternity's face.”

“Flying waters descending straight three thousand feet,
Till I think the Milky Way has tumbled from the ninth height of Heaven.”

“Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.”

“The hours fly around in a circle.”
Volat hora per orbem.