Ways of worshipping are not to be ranked as better or worse than one another . . . It's all praise, and it's all right.

I can heal a broken heart with a smile.

The gates made of light swing open. You see in.

Very little grows on jagged rock. Be ground. Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up where you are.

There came one and knocked at the door of the Beloved. And a voice answered and said, 'Who is there?' The lover replied, 'It is I.' 'Go hence,' returned the voice; 'there is no room within for thee and me.' Then came the lover a second time and knocked and again the voice demanded, 'Who is there?' He answered, 'It is thou.' 'Enter,' said the voice, 'for I am within.

Your calling my name is My reply. Your longing for Me is My message to you.

You're water. We're the millstone. You're wind. We're dust blown up into shapes. You're spirit. We're the opening and closing of our hands. You're the clarity. We're the language that tries to say it. You're joy. We're all the different kinds of laughing.