“The bugle echoes shrill and sweet,
But not of war it sings to-day.
The road is rhythmic with the feet
⁠Of men-at-arms who come to pray.”

“He who sings prays twice.”

“Throughout the centuries there were men who took first steps, down new roads, armed with nothing but their own vision.”

“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. His auditors are as men entranced by the melody of an unseen musician.”

“You have prayed to these priests -- they have answered you with death. You have shed your tears at the feet of these kings -- they have fed upon your flesh. You have clutched the garments of these rich men -- they have quenched their thirst with your blood … NOW THE DAY OF PRAYERS AND TEARS HAS PASSED. THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT HAS COME.”

“Most poetry involves rhythmically structured or patterned language, avoiding what might be called 'a singing line.”

“In my solitude I sing to myself a sweet lullaby, as sweet as my mother used to sing to me.”

“Perchance your prayers will earn your grace, but then you will see nothing of what comes to pass, as you will rest in the arms of the angels. Pray, lady; continue to pray!”

“How sweet on the breeze of the evening swells
The vesper call of those soothing bells,
Borne softly and dying in echoes away,
Like a requiem sung to the parting day.”

“Come calm content serene and sweet,
O gently guide my pilgrim feet
To find thy hermit cell.”