Why should I be unhappy? Each parcel of my being is in full bloom.
In each moment the fire rages, it will burn away a hundred veils. And carry you a thousand steps toward your goal.
The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.
Let the Beloved be a hat pulled down firmly on my head.
You’re a song, a wished-for song.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that, and I intend to end up there.