This is the miracle that happens every time to those who really love; the more they give, the more they possess of that precious nourishing love from which flowers and children have their strength and which could help all human beings if they would take it without doubting.

Where something becomes extremely difficult and unbearable, there we also stand always already quite near its transformation.

It’s possible, I’m moving through the hard veins of heavy mountains, like an arc, alone; I’m so deep inside, I see no end in sight, and no distance: everything is getting near and everything near is turning to stone.

Is not impermanence the very fragrance of our days?

I am touched by your beautiful anxiety about life.

For poems are not, as people think, simply emotions (one has emotions early enough)-they are experiences.

Go into yourself and see how deep the place is from which your life flows.