Nobody knows why they were born or where they come from.

The heart is like a garden. It can grow compassion or fear, resentment or love. What seeds will you plant there?

No one knows how this world came into being. It is a creation of consciousness itself. It's extraordinary, a mystery.

The focusing of attention on the breath is perhaps the most universal of the many hundreds of meditation subjects used worldwide.

When you rest in presence and pure awareness, sometimes everything is experienced as love because you're connected with all that is, and love is simply the nature of being.

Grant that I have enough suffering that my heart really opens to the great compassion of this world, that I be given enough so that I don't wall myself off from the world, that it breaks down the heart and the separation and the ego and the fear, and it lets me touch the nectar, the milk of kindness itself, of something greater.

Life is so hard, how can we be anything but kind?