Idle man, chases after fairy tales.
Your heart mirrors not His love, Rusty with your sins it is, Remove this rust and you shall Perceive how Glorious He is.
I was a tiny bug. Now a mountain. I was left behind. Now honored at the head. You healed my wounded hunger and anger, and made me a poet who sings about joy.
THIS TORTURE Why should we tell you our love stories when you spill them together like blood in the dirt? Love is a pearl lost on the ocean floor, or a fire we can’t see, but how does saying that push us through the top of the head into the light above the head? Love is not an iron pot, so this boiling energy won’t help. Soul, heart, self. Beyond and within those is one saying, How long before I’m free of this torture!
We are as the flute, and the music in us is from thee; we are as the mountain and the echo in us is from thee.
Why, when God's world is so big, did you fall asleep in a prison, of all places?
The here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece of straw blown off into emptiness.
Intelligence is the shadow of objective truth. How can the shadow vie with sunshine?
Return from existence to nonexistence. You are seeking the Lord and you belong to him. Nonexistence is a place of income; flee it not. This existence of more and less is a place of expenditure.
I am dying into your mystery, and dying, I am now no other than that mystery. I open to your majesty as an orchard welcomes rain, and twenty times that.
Since I was cut from the reedbed I have made this crying sound. Anyone separated from someone he loves understands what I say. Anyone pulled from a Source longs to go back.
Any one in love will have no religion.
Two there are who are never satisfied -- the lover of the world and the lover of knowledge.
And even if this world burns up hidden harps will still play here.
For the thirst to possess your love, Is worth my blood a hundred times.
All loves are a bridge to Divine love. Yet, those who have not had a taste of it do not know!
Each and every part of the world is a snare for the fool and a means of deliverance for the wise.
Little by little, wean yourself. This is the gist of what I have to say. From an embryo whose nourishment comes in the blood, move to an infant drinking milk, to a child on solid food, to a searcher after wisdom, to a hunter of invisible game.
Let's ask God to help us to self-control for one who lacks it, lacks his grace.
By God, when you see your beauty you will be the idol of yourself.
The Past, the Future, O dear, is from you; you should regard both these as one.
The work of magic is this, that it breathes and at every breath transforms realities.
Ecstatic Love is an ocean, and the Milky Way is a flake of foam floating on it.
I am your own voice echoing off the walls of God
They are the privileged lovers who create a new world with their eyes of fiery passion.
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