O tongue you are an endless treasure. O tongue, you are also an endless disease.
He who tastes not, knows not.
If you are looking for a friend who is faultless, you will be friendless.
We cannot steal the fire. We must enter it.
My soul gave me good counsel, teaching me to love. Love was for me a delicate thread stretched between two adjacent pegs, but now it has been transformed into a halo, its first is its last, and its last is its first. It encompases every being, slowly expanding to embrace all that ever will be.
Love so needs to love that it will endure almost anything, even abuse, just to flicker for a moment. But the sky's mouth is kind, its song will never hurt you, for I sing those words.