On your journey to your dream, be ready to face oasis and deserts. In both cases, don't stop
The house, the stars, the desert -- what gives them their beauty is something that is invisible!
The desert tells a different story every time one ventures on it.
When you're in the desert, you look into infinity.... It makes you feel terribly small, and also in a strange way, quite big.
You can't fight the desert... you have to ride with it.
Desert, in generally, is a very good place to find yourself. Or lose yourself.
I have always loved the desert. One sits down on a desert sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing. Yet through the silence something throbs, and gleams.
What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well.
Men had always been the reciters of poetry in the desert.
A desert is a place without expectation.
Simplicity is the heart of everything. If you look to the desert, apparently the desert is very simple but it's full of life, it's full of hidden places and the beauty is that it looks simple but it's complex in the way that it expresses the soul of the world or God.
The desert is a natural extension of the inner silence of the body.
A forest is mystery but the desert is truth. Life pared to the bone.
Let the desert wind cool your aching head. Let the weight of the world - drift away instead
Magic of the shadows can best be seen in the deserts.
Let those desert places in our hearts bloom.
In the desert you become a discoverer. You discover your soul, which had been submerged in vain pursuits, which had been lost in the coils and toils of modern life. You discover your kinship with nature and man, which is evoked by the naturalness and the gentle humanity of the natives of the desert, and you will also discover God.
I will fill myself with the desert and the sky. I will be stone and stars, unchanging and strong and safe. The desert is complete; it is spare and alone, but perfect in its soltitude. I will be the desert.
In the empire of desert, water is the king and shadow is the queen.
Without water the desert is nothing but a grave.
The desert wears... a veil of mystery. Motionless and silent it evokes in us an elusive hint of something unknown, unknowable, about to be revealed. Since the desert does not act it seems to be waiting -- but waiting for what?
The desert is an ideal illusion of a blank slate - so much mystery in endless layers is hidden underneath its bright, pseudo-sterile surface.
The ideal person is he who, in the midst of the greatest silence and solitude, finds the intensest activity, and in the midst of the intensest activity finds the silence and solitude of the desert.
The desert is no longer a landscape, it is a pure form produced by the abstraction of all others.
The desert is a capricious lady, and sometimes she drives men crazy.
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