We are the sons of Sorrow; we are the poets and the prophets and the musicians.

How beautiful to find a heart that loves you, without asking you for anything, but to be okay.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.

Progress lies not in enhancing what is, but in advancing toward what will be.

Life has two halves: one patient and one afire. Love is the fiery half. Make me, O Lord, food for the flames.

The voice of life in me cannot reach the ear of life in you; but let us talk that we may not feel lonely.

Sadness is but a wall between two gardens.