The Gates Made Of Light Swing Open.

There Is Only One Search: Wandering... No Dogma And No Heresy.

Late, By Myself, In The Boat Of Myself, No Light And No Land Anywhere, Cloudcover Thick. I Try To Stay Just Above The Surface, Yet I'm Already Under And Living Within The Ocean.

Pilgrimage To The Place Of The Wise Is To Find Escape From The Flame Of Separateness.

A White Flower Grows In The Quietness. Let Your Tongue Become That Flower.

Shine Like The Whole Universe Is Yours.