Birds make great sky-circles of their freedom. How do they learn it? They fall and falling, they're given wings.

Is your face a beautiful blossom or a sweet torture? I have no complaints but my heart is tempted to let you hear of its sorrows.

Everything you see has its roots in the unseen world. The forms may change, yet the essence remains the same.

Actually, your soul and mine are the same. We appear and disappear with each other.

To live without you is to be robbed of love and what is life without it? To live without you is death to me, my love but some call it life.

I, you, he, she, we In the garden of mystic lovers, these are not true distinctions.

We are as the flute, and the music in us is from thee; we are as the mountain and the echo in us is from thee.