The roots of the aged palm tree exceed those of the young one; the old have a greater attachment to the world.

Become placeless, for to change this place of water and clay is but to move from one prison to another.

In this market every head has a different fancy: everyone winds his turban in a different fashion.

The rosary in the hand, repentance on the lips, and the heart full of sinful longings-sin itself laughs at our repentance!

The life of this transitory world is the expectation of death: to renounce life is to escape from the expectation of annihilation.

To quit this troubled world is better than to enter it: the rosebud enters the garden with straitened heart and departs smiling.

The weeping of the candle is not in mourning for the moth: the dawn is at hand, and it is thinking of its own dark night.