Your body is the harp of the soul.

He who understands you is greater kin to you than your own brother. For even your own kindred neither understand you nor know your true worth.

Love is all I can possess and no one can deprive me of it. Kahlil Gibran (Visions of the Prophet)

Strange, the desire for certain pleasures is a part of my pain.

A poet is a bird of unearthly excellence, who escapes from his celestial realm arrives in this world warbling. If we do not cherish him, he spreads his wings and flies back into his homeland.

But memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs a while in the wind and then is heard no more.

My yearning is my cup, my burning thirst is my drink, and my solitude is my intoxication; I do not and shall not quench my thirst. But in this burning that is never extinguished is a joy that never wanes.