I shall find them gathered in thee when I awake and shall be
free.

153
"Who is there to take up my duties?" asked the setting sun.

"I shall do what I can, my Master," said the earthen lamp.

154
By plucking her petals you do not gather the beauty of the
flower.

155
Silence will carry your voice like the nest that holds the
sleeping birds.

156
The Great walks with the Small without fear.
The Middling keeps aloof.

157
The night opens the flowers in secret and allows the day to get
thanks.

158
Power takes as ingratitude the writhings of its victims.

159
When we rejoice in our fulness, then we can part with our fruits
with joy.