Poetry, my dear friends, is a sacred incarnation of a smile. Poetry is a sigh that dries the tears. Poetry is a spirit who dwells in the soul, whose nourishment is the heart, whose wine is affection. Poetry that comes not in this form is a false messiah.

Those to whom worshiping is a window, to open but also to shut, have not yet visited the house of their souls whose windows are open from dawn to dawn.

All work is empty save when there is love.

Have you not heard of the man who was digging in the earth for roots and found a treasure?

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.

The saint and the sinner are twin brothers...one was born but the moment before the other.

Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity.