When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music. Which of you would be a reed, dumb and silent, when all else sings together in unison?

Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral.

If a man loses a dear friend, he looks around and sees many friends come to console and comfort him. If a man loses his wealth, after a little thought he will realize that the delight that came from wealth will be restored by finding more. Thus he forgets his loss and is consoled. But if a man's heart is deprived of peace, where will he find it again, how will he replace it?

The sorrowful spirit finds relaxation in solitude. It abhors people, as a wounded deer deserts the herd and lives in a cave until it is healed or dead.

All things in this vast universe exist in you, with you, and for you.

One day you will ask me which is more important? My life or yours? I will say mine and you will walk away not knowing that you are my life.

For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.