The heart wants to go on; that is its dharma. For unless it moves, it dies.

The burden of the self is lightened with I laugh at myself.

Let my love like sunlight surround you and yet give you illumined freedom.

Poems On Time The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough. Time is a wealth of change, but the clock in its parody makes it mere change and no wealth. Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time like dew on the tip of a leaf.

The smile that flickers on a baby’s lips when he sleeps- does anyone know where it was born? Yes, there is a rumor that a young pale beam of a crescent moon touched the edge of a vanishing autumn cloud, and there the smile was first born in the dream of a dew-washed morning.

The infinite being has assumed unto himself the mystery of finitude. And in him who is love the finite and the infinite are made one.

The danger inherent in all force grows stronger when it is likely to gain success, for then it becomes temptation.