Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret?

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

Passionate love is a quenchless thirst.

Hell is not in torture; Hell is in an empty heart.

The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.

For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night.

We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them.