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Leaves of Morya's Garden - Book 1 - The Call (1924) - 118:
I am the Morning Flute, calling the flock. I am the Waters of the Spring, refreshing the lips of the sorrowing. I am the Mighty Pillar of the Temple. Approach, O vigilant ones! Brotherhood (1937) - 168:
168. Rarely do people hear a cry for help and pass by without a heart tremor. Perhaps a brutalized heart will not lend a hand, but still it will be shaken. A cry for help may be expressed in words or in a single sound, but its heart-rending meaning will be the same. The cries of space likewise may be fragmentary and, according to the meaning of the words, insignificant, whereas their inner meaning is of importance. It need not be thought that the echo of distant thoughts has lost significance; even monosyllabic calls have effect. Sometimes a series of faces rushes past; they may not be familiar, still various frames of mind are felt. From such occurrences there may be built up a sensing of entire countries. One may understand where people are debating, where they are sorrowing, where they rejoice - such signals teach attentiveness. Not only complex reflections of events but also sometimes a solitary exclamation may give a feeling of the general moods. As on the strings the key of the entire musical composition is fixed by one chord, so in space each chord has a significance. On the field of battle a trumpet call decides the fate of an entire army. No one says that one should not harken to the distant signals. Many trumpets are sounding on Earth.
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