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Christian, Jew, Muslim, shaman, Zoroastrian, stone, ground, mountain, river, each has a secret way of being with the mystery, unique and not to be judged
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A thousand half-loves must be forsaken to take one whole heart home.
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You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.
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Peaceful is the one who's not concerned with having more or less. Unbound by name and fame, he is free from sorrow from the world and mostly from himself
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Gamble everything for love, if you are a true human being. If not, leave this gathering. Half–heartedness doesn’t reach into majesty.
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Don’t hand me another glass of wine. Pour it in my mouth. I’ve lost the way to my mouth.
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The quieter you become, the more you are able to hear.
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I am weary of personal worrying, in love with the art of madness.
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My Beloved Know that my beloved in hidden from everyone Know that she is beyond the belief of all beliefs Know that in my heart she is as clear as the moon Know that she is the life in my body and in my soul
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A new moon teaches gradualness and deliberation and how one gives birth to oneself slowly. Patience with small details makes perfect a large work, like the universe.
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Know then that the body is merely a garment. Go seek the wearer, not the cloak.
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You are an ocean in a drop of dew, all the universes in a thin sack of blood. What are these pleasures then, these joys, these worlds that you keep reaching for, hoping they will make you more alive?
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Reason is powerless in the expression of Love.
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Like a sculptor, if necessary, carve a friend out of stone. Realize that your inner sight is blind and try to see a treasure in everyone.
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Sadness to me is the happiest time, When a shining city rises from the ruins of my drunken mind. Those times when I'm silent and still as the earth, The thunder of my roar is heard across the universe.
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There are thousands of wines that can take over our minds. Don't think all ecstasies are the same! Jesus was lost in his love for God. His donkey was drunk with barley.
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Each has to enter the nest made by the other imperfect bird.
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Conventional opinion is the ruin of our souls.
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I closed my mouth and spoke to you in a hundred silent ways.
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I am not this hair, I am not this skin, I am the soul that lives within
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If i can only recount the story of my life right out of my body flames will grow
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My friend, you thought you lost Him; that all your life you've been separated from Him. Filled with wonder, you've always looked outside for Him, and haven't searched within your own house.
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Nothing, indeed, is more symptomatic of our modern lack of logic than our consciousness of the futility of mere material affluence in itself, and at the same time our pathetic belief that the salvation of the “poor” is to lift them into affluence!
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The feelings trembled and flapped in his chest like a bird newly put in a cage.