Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.
Trade your cleverness for bewilderment.
Your way begins at the other side. Become the sky.
Flattery's fire is hidden. Its sweet taste is apparent, but the smoke is bound to come out at last.
What was said to the rose that made it open, was said to me, here in my chest.
The world's flattery and hypocrisy is a sweet morsel: eat less of it, for it is full of fire. Its fire is hidden while its taste is manifest, but its smoke becomes visible in the end.