There is an original inside me.

I have blossomed so much, I am the envy of the gardens.

Break your pitcher against a rock. We don't need any longer to haul pieces of the ocean around.

I died from a mineral and plant became, Died from the plant, took a sentient frame; Died from the beast, donned a human dress - When by my dying did I ever grow less.

What hurts the soul? To live without tasting the water of its own essence.

The body's a mirror of heaven: Its energies make angels jealous. Our purity astounds seraphim. Devils shiver at our nerve.

What in your life is calling you, When all the noise is silenced, The meetings adjourned... The lists laid aside, And the Wild Iris blooms By itself In the dark forest... What still pulls on your soul?