Come, for the House of Hope is built on sand: bring wine, for the fabric of life is as weak as the wind.

Everyone, whether he is self-denying or self-indulgent, is seeking after the Beloved. Every place may be the shrine of love, whether it be mosque or synagogue.

Now that all your worry has proved such an unlucrative business. Why not find a better job.

Come in, my dearFrom that harsh worldThat has rained elements of stoneUpon your tender face.Every soulShould receive a toast from usFor bravery!

Fear is the cheapest room in the house. I would like to see you living in better conditions.

Woe to the dupe that yields to Fate!

A poet is someone Who can pour Light into a spoon, Then raise it To nourish Your beautiful parched, holy mouth.