"If fate is a millstone, we are the grist. There is nothing we can do. So I wish for strength. If I cannot protect them from the wheel,then give me a strong blade, and enough strength, to shatter fate"

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Of two men looking at a green field, one estimates its yield in bushels and calculates the price of the bushels in silver and in gold. The other drinks the greenness of the field with his eye, and kisses every blade with his thought, and fraternizes in his soul with every rootlet and pebble, and every clod of earth.

— Mikhail Naimy