Your heart and my heart are very, very old friends.

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 separation from God is the hardest work you will ever do.

Grieve not because thou understand-not life's mystery; behind the veil is concealed many a delight.

The heart is a thousand stringed instrument that can only be tuned with love.

The small man builds cages for everyone he knows While the sage, who has to duck his head when the moon is low, Keeps dropping keys all night long For the beautiful rowdy prisoners.

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