Your way begins at the other side. Become the sky. Take an axe to the prison wall. Escape. Walk out like someone suddenly born into color. Do it now.
Nearness to God is common to us all, Because we're all created and sustained by God, But only the authentically noble Possess and live that nearness That's a constant upswelling passion of love.
We Are All the Same Listen to the reeds as they sway apart; Hear them speak of lost friends. At birth, you were cut from your bed, Crying and grasping in separation. Everyone listens, knowing your song. You yearn for others who know your name, And the words to your lament. We are all the same, all the same, Longing to find our way back; Back to the one, back to the only one.
Knowing that conscious decisions and personal memory are much too small a place to live, every human being streams at night into the loving nowhere, or during the day, in some absorbing work.
I am so mad with love that mad men say to me - be still!
My longing for you keeps me in this moment My passion gives me courage
Outside ideas of right doing and wrong doing there is a field. I'll meet you there.
To Love is to reach God.
When you seek Love with all your Heart, you shall find its echoes in the universe.
Everything has to do with loving and not loving.
They are the privileged lovers who create a new world with their eyes of fiery passion.
I become a waterwheel, turning and tasting you, as long as water moves.
Be drunk with Love, for Love is all that exists. Where is intimacy found if not in the give and take of Love.
Those loves which are for the sake of a colour are not love. In the end they are a disgrace.
Intellect in its effort to explain Love got stuck in the mud like an ass. Love alone could explain love and loving.
There is some kiss we want with your whole lives, the touch of spirit on the body. Seawater begs the pearl to break its shell. And the lily, how passionately it needs some wild darling.
Every bird will follow it's specie.
They try to say what you are, spiritual or sexual? They wonder about Solomon and all his wives. In the body of the world, they say, there is a soul and you are that. But we have ways within each other that will never be said by anyone.
For me to praise is interrupting praise.
The Ripe FigNow that You live here in my chest,anywhere we sit is a mountaintop.And those other images,which have enchanted peoplelike porcelain dolls from China,which have made men and women weepfor centuries, even those have changed now.What used to be pain is a lovely benchwhere we can rest under the roses.A left hand has become a right.A dark wall, a window.A cushion in a shoe heel,the leader of the community!Now silence. What we sayis poison to someand nourishing to others.What we say is a ripe fig,but not every bird that flieseats figs.