You think of yourself as a citizen of the universe. You think you belong to this world of dust and matter. Out of this dust you have created a personal image, and have forgotten about the essence of your true origin

O, Great Spirit, open my eyes, open heart's wings, open my ears to your voice in all things.

Joy lives concealed in grief.

I have no name for what circles so perfectly.

Take sips of this pure wine being poured. Don't mind that you've been given a dirty cup.

Even though you're not equipped, keep searching: equipment isn't necessary on the way to the Lord.

What is the heart? It is not human and it is not imaginary. I call it you.