Forgetfulness is a form of freedom.
For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, "Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks." Thus I became a madman.
Let your home be you mast and not your anchor.
Be like the flower, turn your faces to the sun.
The biggest thing in today's sorrow is the memory of yesterday's joy.
Virtue tested: "Have I not survived hunger and thirst, suffering, and mockery for the sake of the truth which heaven has awakened in my heart?