Has my heart gone to sleep? Have the beehives of my dreams stopped working, the waterwheel of the mind run dry, scoops turning empty, only shadow inside? No, my heart is not asleep. It is awake, wide awake. Not asleep, not dreaming— its eyes are opened wide watching distant signals, listening on the rim of vast silence

I. Don't trace out your profile-- forget your side view-- all that is outer stuff. II. Look for your other half who walks always next to you and tends to be who you aren't.

Between living and dreaming there is a third thing. Guess it.

Beware of the community in which blasphemy does not exist: underneath, atheism runs rampant.

There is no way; we make the road by walking it.

No one can shed light on vices he does not have or afflictions he has ever experienced.

Travelers, there is no path, paths are made by walking.