The life of a devotee is a crusade of which the heart is the Holy Land.
The heart that once has been your shrine for other loves is too divine
In my flowery dreams there's always you. I do not regret it one bit.
What a frightful weapon is human thought! It is our defense and our safeguard, the most precious gift that God has made us. It is ours and it obeys us; we may launch it forth into space, but, once outside of our feeble brains, it is gone; we can no longer control it.
How glorious it is - and also how painful - to be an exception.
Memory is what makes us young or old.