The wound is the place where the Light enters you.
Even when tied in a thousand knots, the string is still but one.
What a piece of bread looks like depends on whether you are hungry or not.
I love myself...I love you. I love you...I love myself.
You must lance an ulcer to heal it. You must tear down parts of an old building to restore it, and so it is with a sensual life that has no spirit in it.
Your thoughts are a veil on the face of the Moon. That Moon is your heart, and those thoughts cover your heart. So let them go, just let them fall into the water.