Often a star was waiting for you to notice it. A wave rolled toward you out of the distant path, or as you walked under an open window, a violin yielded itself to your hearing. All this was mission.

Do not allow yourself to be misled by the surfaces of things

If we surrendered to earth's intelligence we could rise up rooted, like trees.

Earth, my dearest, oh believe me, you no longer need your springtimes to win me over...Unspeakably, I have belonged to you, from the flush.

What do the contours of your body mean, laid out like the lines on a hand, so that I no longer see them except as fate?

Trees do not force their sap, nor does the flower push its bloom.

Make your ego porous. Will is of little importance, complaining is nothing, fame is nothing. Openness, patience, receptivity, solitude is everything.