Whoever is loved is beautiful, but the opposite is not true, that whoever is beautiful is loved.
Last night my teacher taught me the lesson of Poverty: Having nothing and wanting nothing.
Be patient where you sit in the dark. The dawn is coming
Love itself describes its own perfection. Be speechless and listen.
The result of my life is no more than three words: I was raw, I became cooked, I was burnt.
This is love: to fly toward a secret sky