Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, We feel them down and turn them into paper, That we may record our emptiness
Poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder, with a dash of the dictionary.
All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind.
As the strings of a lute are apart though they quiver the same music.
Life unfolds itself in mysteries ways.
Exaggeration is truth that has lost its temper.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
The earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.
Let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
Faith is a knowledge within the heart, beyond the reach of proof.
Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother.
He who is more mindful of one, loses the love and the faith of both.
Love is quivering happiness.
Let there be spaces in your togetherness.
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
I would not exchange the laughter of my heart for the fortunes of the multitudes.
Your clothes conceal much of your beauty, yet they hide not the unbeautiful.
You cannot laugh and be unkind at the same time.
Desire is half of life; indifference is half of death.
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
All that spirits desire, spirits attain.
Strange, the desire for certain pleasures is a part of my pain.
Life without liberty is like a body without spirit.
Love and doubt are not on speaking terms.
Tell your secret to the wind, but don't blame it for telling the trees.
He who seeks ecstasy in love should not complain of suffering.
The most pitiful among men is he who turns his dreams into silver and gold.