Birdsong brings relief to my longing. I am just as ecstatic as they are, but with nothing to say.

Since Love has made ruins of my heart The sun must come and illumine them. Such generosity has broken me with shame.

God picks up the reed-flute world and blows. Each note is a need coming through one of us, a passion, a longing pain. Remember the lips where the wind-breath originated, and let your note be clear. Don't try to end it. Be your note.

Carry your baggage towards silence , when you seek the signs of the way.

If you have not learned to be a passionate lover, do not count your life as lived. On the day of reckoning, it will not be counted.

When we practice loving kindness and compassion we are the first ones to profit.

Would you become a pilgrim on the road of love? The first condition is that you make yourself humble as dust and ashes.