Thinking is always the stumbling stone to poetry.
A hermit is one who renounces the world of fragments that he may enjoy the world wholly and without interruption.
It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear, but rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears.
No man can reveal to you nothing but that which already lies half-asleep in the dawning of your knowledge.
The eye of a human being is a microscope, which makes the world seem bigger than it really is.
And you receivers - and you are all receivers - assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives. Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings; For to be overmindful of your debt, is to doubt his generosity who has the free hearted earth for mother, and God for father.
Some think I wink at them when I shut my eyes to avoid their sight.
Yet the timeless in you is aware of life's timelessness, And knows that yesterday is but today's memory and tomorrow is today's dream. And that that which sings and contemplates in you is still dwelling within the bounds of that first moment which scattered the stars into space. Who among you does not feel that his power to love is boundless? And yet who does not feel that very love, though boundless, encompassed within the centre of his being, and moving not from love thought to love thought, nor from love deeds to other love deeds? And is not time even as love is, undivided and paceless?
The saint and the sinner are twin brothers...one was born but the moment before the other.
And if there come the singers, and the dancers and the flute players - buy of their gifts also. For they too are gatherers of fruit and frankincense, and that which they bring, though fashioned of dreams, is raiment and fod for your soul.
Give and Take... For to the bee a flower is a fountain if life And to the flower a bee is a messenger of love And to both, bee and flower, the giving and the receiving is a need and an ecstasy.
And as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree.
Would that I were a dry well, and that the people tossed stones into me, for that would be easier than to be a spring of flowing water that the thirsty pass by, and from which they avoid drinking.
Your reason and your passion are your rudder and sails of your seafaring soul, if either your sails or your rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas. For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction.
There is no secret in the mystery of life stronger and more beautiful than that attachment which converts the silence of a virgin's spirit into a perpetual awareness that makes a person forget the past, for it kindles fiercely in the heart the sweet and overwhelming hope of the coming future.
All work is empty save when there is love.
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
There are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue; They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space.
Love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
The tears that you spill, the sorrowful, are sweeter than the laughter of snobs and the guffaws of scoffers.
He who repeats what he does not understand is no better than an ass that is loaded with books.
Pain and foolishness lead to great bliss and complete knowledge, for Eternal Wisdom created nothing under the sun in vain.
Is not the beautiful moon, that inspires poets, the same moon which angers the silence of the sea with a terrible roar?
Art is a step from what is obvious and well-known toward what is arcane and concealed.
And what word is knowledge but a shadow of wordless knowledge?
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