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

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

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

We keep so busy talking we are so keen to act that we forget that in the heart lies all we need untapped, intact.

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.

A rose is but a rose, it blooms because it blooms; it thinks not of itself, nor asks if it is seen.