What is outside yourself does not convey much worth; Clothes do not make the man, the saddle not the horse.

Don't think that some tomorrow you'll see God's Light. You see it now or err in darkest night.

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

Love is difficult, because loving is not enough: We must, like God, ourselves be Love.

I am like God and God like me. I am as large as God. He is as small as I. He cannot above me nor I beneath him be.

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

God does not care what good you did, but why you did it. He does not grade the fruit but probes the core and tests the root.