The lips of the one I love are my perpetual pleasure.
You have actually waltzed with tremendous style, my sweet, O my sweet, crushed angel.
I know you have a hundred complex cases against God in court, but never mind, let's just get out of this mess.
Let tenderness pour from your eyes, the way sun gazes warmly on earth.
How did the rose ever open its heart and give to this world all of its beauty? It felt the encouragement of Light against its being; otherwise we all remain too frightened.
Your heart and my heart are very, very old friends.