You must lance an ulcer to heal it. You must tear down parts of an old building to restore it, and so it is with a sensual life that has no spirit in it.

In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art.

The breath of the flute player: does it belong to the flute?

What is the Heart? A flower opening.

Silence is an ocean. Speech is a river. When the ocean is searching for you, don't walk into the river. Listen to the ocean.

When inward tenderness finds the secret hurt, pain itself will crack the rock and Ah! Let the soul emerge.

The rose's rarest essence lives in the thorns.