The earth has disappeared beneath my feet, It fled from all my ecstasy. Now like a singing air creature I feel the rose keep opening.
I do not feel like writing verses; but as I light my perfume burner with myrrh and jasmine incense, they suddenly burgeon from my heart, like flowers in a garden.
There are different wells within your heart. Some fill with each good rain, Others are far too deep for that.
The tide of my love
Has risen so high let me flood
Every desire of your body is holy;
Every desire of your body is
There is an ambush everywhere from the army of accidents; therefore the rider of life runs with loosened reins.
The lips of the one I love are my perpetual pleasure.
I know the way you can get / When you have not had a drink of Love: / Your face hardens, / Your sweet muscles cramp. / Children become concerned / About a strange look that appears in your eyes / Which even begins to worry your own mirror / And nose.
Your separation from God is the hardest work you will ever do.
Whatis the root of all these words?
One thing: Love.
But a love so deep and sweet it needed to express itself with scents, sounds, colors that never before existed.
The reason why worry kills more people than work is that more people worry than work.- Robert Frost Now that all your worry has proved such an unattractive business - why not find a better job?
Words have no language which can utter the secrets of love; and beyond the limits of expression is the expounding of desire.
Love is simply creation's greatest joy.
On the holy boughs of the Celestial Tree High up in the heavenly fields, Beyond terrestrial desire My soul-bird a warm nest has built.
Come, for the House of Hope is built on sand: bring wine, for the fabric of life is as weak as the wind.
The world is a bride of surpassing beauty-but remember that this maiden is never bound to anyone.
The Truth has shared so much of Itself with me That I can no longer call myself A man, a woman, an angel, Or even pure Soul.
There is no pleasure without a tincture of bitterness.
We don't need sugar, flour or rice or anything else. We just want to see our dear ones.
Woe to the dupe that yields to Fate!
Fear is the cheapest room in the house.
The world is like an eye, a beard, a spot of beauty and eyebrow, Where each thing is neatly in place.
If, like the prophet Noah, you have patience in the distress of the flood, Calamity turns aside, and the desire of a thousand years comes forth.
'Tis writ on Paradise's gate, Woe to the dupe that yields to fate!
All your wounds from craving love
Exist because of heroic deeds.
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