Actually, your soul and mine are the same. We appear and disappear with each other.
Kindle in thy heart the flame of love.
On the path of Love we are neither masters nor the owners of our lives. We are only a brush in the hand of the Master Painter.
I am so mad with love that mad men say to me - be still!
Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.
In the Friend-place nothing true can be said. Let Me Just Be Here.