Snow crystals on a trembling leaf,
along the river where we talked at
the tip of Spring; fresh air, moist
lavender sky--the silence following
a blessed rain that came, bringing
us to beauty; a tiny wild flower
under the shadows of a moss-covered
log; as if to say, I am the first smile,
the new beginning of heaven.
The only name for the faculty by which we can discern the element of Beauty which is present in every fact, we must discern in every fact before it becomes truth for us, is love ... The relation between those things is simple and inextricable. When we love a fact, it becomes truth; when we attain that detachment from our passions whereby it becomes possible for us to love all facts, then we have reached our peace. If a truth cannot be loved, it is not truth, but only fact. But the fact does not change in order that it might become truth; it is we who change. All fact is beautiful; it is we who have to regain our innocence to see its beauty.