Two there are who are never satisfied -- the lover of the world and the lover of knowledge.
And you? When will you begin that long journey into yourself?
I am weary of personal worrying, in love with the art of madness.
How will you know the difficulties of being human, if you are always flying off to blue perfection? Where will you plant your grief seeds? Workers need ground to scrape and hoe, not the sky of unspecified desire.
There is a fountain inside you. Don't walk around with an empty bucket.
Pain is a treasure, for it contains mercies.