“Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell.”

A tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me!… Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.

Youth ends when egotism does; maturity begins when one lives for others.

Each man’s life represents a road toward himself.

To achieve the possible, we must attempt the impossible again and again.

If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn’t part of ourselves doesn’t disturb us.

I live in my dreams — that’s what you sense. Other people live in dreams, but not in their own. That’s the difference.

Within you there is a stillness and sanctuary to which you can retreat at any time and be yourself.

When dealing with the insane, the best method is to pretend to be sane.

If time is not real, then the dividing line between this world and eternity, between suffering and bliss, between good and evil, is also an illusion.

Every phenomenon on earth is symbolic, and each symbol is an open gate through which the soul, if it is ready, can enter into the inner part of the world, where you and I and day and night are all one.

Chaos demands to be recognized and experienced before letting itself be converted into a new order.

We are not going in circles, we are going upwards. The path is a spiral; we have already climbed many steps.

Wisdom is nothing but a preparation of the soul, a capacity, a secret art of thinking, feeling and breathing thoughts of unity at every moment of life.

People with courage and character always seem sinister to the rest.

What could I say to you that would be of value, except that perhaps you seek too much, that as a result of your seeking you cannot find.

Love must neither beg nor demand. Love must be strong enough to find certainty within itself. It then cease to be moved and becomes the mover.

I have lost my dewdrop , cries the flower to the morning sky that lost all its stars.

I have lost my dewdrop , cries the flower to the morning sky that lost all its stars.

The walls of my room turn gray, the world began to crumble, the flowers withered, the birds lost their wings, the paintings became colorless, the sunlight was lost and the moon was no more.

From seeds of his body blossomed the flower that liberated a people and touched the soul of a nation.

When we see the Beloved in each person, it’s like walking through a garden, watching flowers bloom all around us.

By plucking her petals you do not gather the beauty of the flower.

God waits to win back his own flowers as gifts from man’s hands.

Like wildflowers you must allow yourself to grow in all the places people thought you never would.