Nothing can throw thee into the infernal abyss so much as this detested word - heed well! - this mine and thine.

The rose does not have a why; it blossums without reason, forgetful of self and oblivious to our vision.

A monk asks:Is there anything more miraculous than the wonders of nature?The master answers:Yes, your awareness of the wonders of nature.

The Rose which here on earth is now perceived by me, has blossomed thus in god from all eternity.

God is a pure no-thing, concealed in now and here; the less you reach for him, the more he will appear.

The Rose is without 'why'—she blooms because she blooms.

The name of Jesus is as ointment poured forth; It nourishes, and illumines, and stills the anguish of the soul.