Beauty surrounds us, but usually we need to be walking in a garden to know it.
The garden of the world has no limits, except in your mind.
Grief can be the garden of compassion. If you keep your heart open through everything, your pain can become your greatest ally in your life's search for love and wisdom.
And don't think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It's quiet, but the roots are down there riotous.
I, you, he, she, we In the garden of mystic lovers, these are not true distinctions.
Love, the life-giving garden of this world.
The garden of the world has no limits except in your mind. Its presence is more beautiful than the stars with more clarity than the polished mirror of your heart.
This outward spring and garden are a reflection of the inward garden.
When your heart becomes the grave of your secrets, that desire of yours will be gained more quickly. The prophet said that anyone who keeps secret his inmost thought will soon attain the object of his desire. When seeds are buried in the earth, their inward secrets become the flourishing garden.
How should Spring bring forth a garden on hard stone? Become earth, that you may grow flowers of many colors. For you have been heart-breaking rock. Once, for the sake of experiment, be earth!
A moment of happiness, you and I sitting on the verandah, apparently two, but one in soul, you and I. We feel the flowing water of life here, you and I, with the garden's beauty and the birds singing. The stars will be watching us, and we will show them what it is to be a thin crescent moon. You and I unselfed, will be together, indifferent to idle speculation, you and I. The parrots of heaven will be cracking sugar as we laugh together, you and I. In one form upon this earth, and in another form in a timeless sweet land.
Pull the thorn of existence out of the heart! Fast! For when you do, you will see thousands of rose gardens in yourself.
I am your moon and your moonlight too I am your flower garden and your water too I have come all this way, eager for you Without shoes or shawl I want you to laugh To kill all your worries To love you To nourish you.
I am a bird of God's garden and I do not belong to this dusty world For a day or two they have put me here in this cage of my own body I did not come here of my own I will not return of my own to my own country.
Beauty is the garden scent of roses, murmuring water flowing gently...Can words describe the indescribable?
Cease looking for flowers! There blooms a garden in your own home. While you look for trinkets The treasure house awaits you in your own being.
In the garden I see only your face From trees and blossoms I inhale only your fragrance.
If you can't smell the fragrance don't come into the garden of Love. if you are unwilling to undress don't enter into the stream of Truth. Stay where you are, don't come our way
The garden of love is green without limit and yields many fruits other than sorrow or joy. Love is beyond either condition: without spring, without autumn, it is always fresh.
In the orchard and rose garden I long to see your face. In the taste of Sweetness I long to kiss your lips. In the shadows of passion I long for your love.
When the rose is gone and the garden faded you will no longer hear the nightingale's song. The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil. The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing. If love withholds its strengthening care, the lover is left like a bird without care, the lover is left like a bird without wings. How will I be awake and aware if the light of the Beloved is absent? Love wills that this Word be brought forth.
If the foot of the trees were not tied to earth, they would be pursuing me; For I have blossomed so much, I am the envy of the gardens.
Where, with your one rose you can buy hundreds of rose gardens?
Whoever is sitting with friends is in the midst of a flower garden, though he may be in the fire. Whoever sits with an enemy is in the fire, even though he is in the midst of a garden.
You rave about the Holy Place (Masjid al-Haram) and say you've visited God's garden but where is your bunch of flowers? There is some merit in the suffering you have endured but what a pity you have not discovered the Makkah thats inside
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