I feel like the earth, astonished at fragrance borne in the air, made pregnant with mystery from a drop of rain.
What a piece of bread looks like depends on whether you are hungry or not.
Words are a pretext. It is the inner bond that draws one person to another, not words.
I have blossomed so much, I am the envy of the gardens.
Whatever posessions and objects of its desires the lower self may obtain, it hangs on to them, refusing to let them go out of greed for more, or out of fear of poverty and need.
I opened my arms to Love and Love embraced me like a Lover