A hermit is one who renounces the world of fragments that he may enjoy the world wholly and without interruption.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy. Only when you're empty you're at standstill and balance.

You often say, ‘I would give, but only to the deserving.' The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture. They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish.

And how shall you rise beyond your days and nights unless you break the chains which you at the dawn of your understanding have fastened around your noon hour?

Memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs a while in the wind and then is heard no more.

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.