If your heart is a volcano, how shall you expect flowers to bloom?

Some think I wink at them when I shut my eyes to avoid their sight.

Who among you does not feel that his power to love is boundless? And yet who does not feel that very love, though boundless, encompassed within the center of his being, and moving not from love thought to love thought, nor from love deeds to other love deeds?

Am I a harp that the hand of the mighty may touch me, or a flute that his breath may pass through me? A seeker of silences am I, and what treasure have I found in silences that I may dispense with confidence?

He is short-sighted who looks only on the path he treads and the wall on which he leans.

The reality of the other person is not in what he reveals to you, but in what he cannot reveal to you. Therefore, if you would understand him, listen not to what he says but rather to what he does not say.

Wit is often a mask. If you tear it you will find either genius irritated or cleverness juggling.