When love first tasted the lips of being human, it started singing.
Even when tied in a thousand knots, the string is still but one.
Everything you possess of skill, and wealth, and handicraft, wasn't it first merely a thought and a quest?
Pilgrimage to the place of the wise is to find escape from the flame of separateness.
Oh you, straying heart, just come! Oh you, aching liver, just come! If the path to the gate is closed, Take the way by the wall, but come!
From cane reeds, sugar. From a worm's cocoon, silk. Be patient if you can, and from sour grapes will come something sweet.