The soul: a wide listening sky with thousands of candles.
You believe God is not there, but He is, Hidden in the secret of the divine mystery
Ignorance is God's prison. Knowing is God's palace
Are you searching for your soul? Then come out of your own prison.
Contain all human faces in your own without any judgment of them
Love is an emotion. Totally silent and inexpressible with words.
What will our children do in the morning if they do not see us fly?
In Winter the bare boughs that seem to sleep Work covertly, preparing for their Spring.
Everything you possess of skill, and wealth, and handicraft, wasn't it first merely a thought and a quest?
Your happy songs bring to me the scent of Heaven. Please keep singing!
Do you think I know what I'm doing? That for one breath or half-breath I belong to myself? As much as a pen knows what it's writing, or the ball can guess where it's going next.
Dance until you shatter yourself.
Carry your baggage towards silence , when you seek the signs of the way.
Let lovers be crazy, disgraceful and wild Those who fret about such things Aren’t in love.
Nothing can help me but that beauty. There was a dawn I remember when my soul heard something from your soul. I drank water from your spring and felt the current take me.
Hall of Love has ten thousand swords. Don't be afraid to use one.
Learn to recognize the false dawn from the true; distinguish the color of the wine from the color of the cup. Then it may be that patience and time may produce, out of the spectrum-viewing sight, true vision, and you will behold colors other than these mortal hues, you will see pearls instead of stones. Pearls, did I say? Nay more, you will become a sea, you will become a sun traveling the sky.
LOVE is what gives joy to giving joy.
Friends are enemies sometimes, and enemies friends.
You are the Truth from foot to brow. Now, what else would you like to know?
Only the soul knows what love is.
Infinite mercy flows continually But you're asleep and can't see it.
There is an unseen sweetness in the stomach’s emptiness. We are lutes. When the sound box is filled, no music can come forth. When the brain and the belly burn from fasting, every moment a new song rises out of the fire. The mists clear, and a new vitality makes you spring up the steps before you . . .
The heart is cooking a pot of food for you. Be patient until it is cooked
The middle path is the way to wisdom
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