Those who deny the existence of the truth postulate the truth of their denial and plainly contradict themselves.

Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt - marvellous error! - That it was God I had here inside my heart.

The absence of vices adds so little to the sum of one's virtues.

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

Don't try to rush things: for the cup to run over, it must first be filled.

And to walk through life in dreams out of love for the hand that guides us.

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