The images we create could turn into wild beasts and tear us to pieces.
One day you will take me completely out of myself, I'll do what the angels cannot do. Your eyelash will write on my cheek the poem that hasn't been thought of.
Be patient where you sit in the dark. The dawn is coming
God writes spiritual Mysteries on our heart, where they wait silently for discovery.
Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralyzed.
The rose's rarest essence lives in the thorns.