Even when tied in a thousand knots, the string is still but one.
Dance in the middle of fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you’re perfectly free.
The wound is the place where the Light enters you.
Be occupied, then, with what you really value and let the thief take something else.
I want your sun to reach my raindrops, so your heat can raise my soul upward like a cloud.
Come sit with me! Let us drink the holy wine of happiness.
You go from village to village on your horse asking everyone, “Has anyone seen my horse?”
Burdens are the foundations of ease and bitter things the forerunners of pleasure.
This love is the rose that blooms forever.
…my heart sinks like a comb into wave after wave of your silky hair.