Each and every part of the world is a snare for the fool and a means of deliverance for the wise.

Throw off your tiredness. Let me show you one tiny spot of the beauty that can't be spoken.

It may be that the satisfaction I need depends on my going away, so that when I've gone and come back, I'll find it at home.

You have been a prisoner of a little pond I am the ocean and its turbulent flood Come merge with me leave this world of ignorance

Friends are enemies sometimes, and enemies friends.

They try to say what you are, spiritual or sexual? They wonder about Solomon and all his wives. In the body of the world, they say, there is a soul and you are that. But we have ways within each other that will never be said by anyone.

You're water. We're the millstone. You're wind. We're dust blown up into shapes. You're spirit. We're the opening and closing of our hands. You're the clarity. We're the language that tries to say it. You're joy. We're all the different kinds of laughing.