This Being Human Is A Guest House.

There Is A Light Seed Grain Inside. You Fill It With Yourself, Or It Dies.

Is Your Face A Beautiful Blossom Or A Sweet Torture? I Have No Complaints But My Heart Is Tempted To Let You Hear Of Its Sorrows.

We Are Born Of Love. Love Is Our Mother.

Take Someone Who Doesn't Keep Score, Who's Not Looking To Be Richer, Or Afraid Of Losing, Who Has Not The Slightest Interest Even In His Own Personality: He's Free.

When You Seek Love With All Your Heart, You Shall Find Its Echoes In The Universe.