You think you are alive because you breathe air? Shame on you, that you are alive in such a limited way. Don't be without Love, so you won't feel dead. Die in Love and stay alive forever.

Try something different. Surrender.

Sorrows are the rags of old clothes and jackets that serve to cover, and then are taken off. That undressing, and the beautiful naked body underneath, is the sweetness that comes after grief.

No more words. In the name of this place we drink in with our breathing, stay quiet like a flower. So the nightbirds will start singing.

Happy, not from anything that happens. Warm, not from fire or a hot bath. Light, I register zero on a scale.

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

Iron was black and sheenless, but cleansing and polishing washed away its blackness.