When the day is fine, and the flowers smell sweet, and I sit on my bench down there among the jasmine and honeysuckles, something rises in me, like waves which beat against my stillness.

Ideas come into my mind which shake me, and fly away like those birds before the windows; I cannot hold them.

Well, when I have made a bouquet in which the colors blend like tapestry, and the red contrasts with white, and the greens and the browns cross each other, when all seems so abundant, the breeze so playful, the flowers so many that their fragrance mingles and their buds interlace,--well, then I am happy, for I see what is passing in me.

At church when the organ plays and the clergy respond, there are two distinct songs speaking to each other,--the human voice and the music.

Well, then, too, I am happy; that harmony echoes in my breast.