A servant wants to be rewarded for what he does. A lover wants only to be in love's presence, that ocean whose depth will never be known.

There came one and knocked at the door of the Beloved. And a voice answered and said, 'Who is there?' The lover replied, 'It is I.' 'Go hence,' returned the voice; 'there is no room within for thee and me.' Then came the lover a second time and knocked and again the voice demanded, 'Who is there?' He answered, 'It is thou.' 'Enter,' said the voice, 'for I am within.

If you are wholly perplexed and in straits, have patience, for patience is the key to joy.

Without you the instruments would die. One sits close beside you. Another takes a long kiss. The tambourine begs, Touch my skin so I can be myself. Let me feel you enter each limb bone by bone, that what died last night can be whole today. Why live some soberer way, and feel you ebbing out? I won't do it. Either give me enough wine or leave me alone, now that I know how it is to be with you in constant conversation.

We are as pieces of chess engaged in victory and defeat!

One drop of that ocean is Hope, and the rest is fear.

Water, stories, the body, all the things we do, are mediums that hid and show what's hidden.