The one who has a good friend doesn't need any mirror.

Someone who goes with a half a loaf of bread to a small place that fits like a nest around him, someone who wants no more, who is not himself longed for by anyone else. He is a letter to everyone. You open it. It says, Live.

The glance of Love is crystal clear.

The world is a mountain, in which your words are echoed back to you.

The gifts of lovers to one another are, in respect to love, nothing but forms; yet, they testify to invisible love.

Innumerable changes of moods are yours, and they are uncontrolled by you. If you knew their origin, you would be able to dominate them. If you cannot localize your own changes, how can you localize that which formed you?

If you could leave your selfishness, you would see how you've been torturing your soul.