Under all that we think, lives all we believe, like the ultimate veil of our spirits

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

At the very smallest wheel of our reasoning it is possible for a handful of questions to break the bank of our answers.

Caminante, no hay camino, se hace camino al andar. (Walk, there is no path, the path is made by walking.)

My soul is not asleep. It is awake, wide awake. It neither sleeps nor dreams, but watches, its eyes wide open far-off things, and listens at the shores of the great silence.

I love Jesus, who said to us: Heaven and earth will pass away. When heaven and earth have passed away, my word will remain. What was your word, Jesus? Love? Forgiveness? Affection? All your words were one word: Wakeup.

What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?