Think of suffering as being washed.

People say that the soul, on hearing the song of creation, entered the body, but in reality the soul itself was the song.

I do not feel like writing verses; but as I light my perfume burner with myrrh and jasmine incense, they suddenly burgeon from my heart, like flowers in a garden.

You have actually waltzed with tremendous style, my sweet, O my sweet, crushed angel.

Now is the time to know that all that you do is sacred.

Love sometimes wants to do us a great favor: hold us upside down and shake all the nonsense out.

Everyone Is God speaking. Why not be polite and Listen to Him?