One of the marvels of the world: The sight of a soul sitting in prison with the key in its hand.

From now on I will make burning my aim, For I am like the candle: burning only makes me brighter.

Pain is a treasure, for it contains mercies.

Water and bread with us you can't compare 895 But, once they're eaten, turn to flesh in there, Water and bread don't look compatible, The end-result shows that it's possible. So if it's something different that you like It must at least in some way be alike.

Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds' wings.

A strange passion is moving in my head. My heart has become a bird Which searches in the sky. Every part of me goes in different directions. Is it really so That the one I love is everywhere?