Ecstatic Love is an ocean, and the Milky Way is a flake of foam floating on it.
Peaceful is the one who is not concerned with having more or less.
Your body is away from me, but there is a window open from my heart to yours.
My heart rushes into the garden, joyfully tasting all the delights. But reason frowns, disapproving of the heart's bad manners.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that, and I intend to end up there.
Looking up gives light, although at first it makes you dizzy.