I grow silent. Dear soul, you speak.

Maybe you are searching among the branches, for what only appears in the roots.

Know mankind well, don't degrade every man as evil, and don't exalt every man thinking he is good. He who cannot discover himself; cannot discover the world.

I want a trouble-maker for a lover, Blood spiller, blood drinker, a heart of flame, Who quarrels with the sky and fights with fate, Who burns like fire on the rushing sea.

In love’s country, language doesn’t have its place. Love is mute.

You have forgotten the One who doesn't care about ownership, who doesn't try to turn a profit from every human exchange.

The time has come to turn your heart into a temple of fire.