Don't be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.

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.

The lion who breaks the enemy's ranks is a minor hero compared to the lion who overcomes himself.

Listen to the unstruck sounds, and what sifts through that music.

Each has to enter the nest made by the other imperfect bird.

Throw off your tiredness. Let me show you one tiny spot of the beauty that can't be spoken.

I honor those who try to rid themselves of any lying, who empty the self and have only clear being there.