God picks up the reed-flute world and blows. Each note is a need coming through one of us, a passion, a longing pain. Remember the lips where the wind-breath originated, and let your note be clear. Don't try to end it. Be your note.
Learn to speak by listening.
Your happy songs bring to me the scent of Heaven. Please keep singing!
Hall of Love has ten thousand swords. Don't be afraid to use one.
Why should I be unhappy? Each parcel of my being is in full bloom.
Your light is more magnificent than sunrise or sunset