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.

Love that does not renew itself every day becomes a habit and in turn a slavery.

All you have shall some day be given. Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors.

Philosophy's work is finding the shortest path between two points.

When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music. Which of you would be a reed, dumb and silent, when all else sings together in unison?

In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond.

Spare me the political events and power struggles, as the whole earth is my homeland and all men are my fellow countrymen.