Know that a word suddenly shot from the tongue is like an arrow shot from the bow. Son, that arrow won't turn back on its way; you must damn the torrent at its source.

When the rose is gone and the garden faded you will no longer hear the nightingale's song. The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil. The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing. If love withholds its strengthening care, the lover is left like a bird without care, the lover is left like a bird without wings. How will I be awake and aware if the light of the Beloved is absent? Love wills that this Word be brought forth.

In Silence there is eloquence.

There is a field beyond all notions of right and wrong. Come, meet me there.

The intellectual quest is exquisite like pearls and coral, But it is not the same as the spiritual quest. The spiritual quest is on another level altogether, Spiritual wine has a subtler taste. The intellect and the senses investigate cause and effect. The spiritual seeker surrenders to the wonder.

When you lose all sense of self the bonds of a thousands chains will vanish. Lose yourself completely, return to the root of the root of your own soul.

I don't want learning, or dignity, or respectability. I want this music, and this dawn, and the warmth of your cheek against mine.