A white flower grows in the quietness. Let your tongue become that flower.
There's no one with intelligence in this town except that man over there playing with the children, the one riding the stick horse. He has keen, fiery insight and vast dignity like the night sky, but he conceals it in the madness of child's play.
Anyone who genuinely and consistently with both hands look for something, will find it.
There is nothing I want but your Presence. In friendship, time dissolves.
The heart has its own language. The heart knows a hundred thousand ways to speak.
I grow silent. Dear soul, you speak.