Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn't matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. Come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again, come, come.

What hurts the soul? To live without tasting the water of its own essence.

Beyond ideas, there's a field. Will you meet me there?

Remember. The way you make love is the way God will be with you.

Is your face a beautiful blossom or a sweet torture? I have no complaints but my heart is tempted to let you hear of its sorrows.

Earth tries to work sorcery on us, saying Tomorrow, Tomorrow, but we outwit that spell by enjoying this now.

Listen, open a window to God and begin to delight yourself by gazing upon Him through the opening.