There is an unseen sweetness in the stomach’s emptiness. We are lutes. When the sound box is filled, no music can come forth. When the brain and the belly burn from fasting, every moment a new song rises out of the fire. The mists clear, and a new vitality makes you spring up the steps before you . . .

The love religion is all that is written here.

Love is a madman, working his wild schemes, tearing off his clothes, running through the mountains...

Don't stray from your Heart's intent.

Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.

Work in the invisible world at least as hard as you do in the visible.

Your heart knows the way. Run in that direction.