Where The Lips Are Silent The Heart

Botha Swimmer And A Drowned Man Are In The Water; The Latter Is Borne By The Water And Controlled By It, While The Swimmer Is Borne Along By His Own Power And Of His Own Volition. Every Movement Made By The Drowned Man - Indeed, Every Act And Word That Issue From Him - Comes From The Water, Not From Him... The Saints Are Like This. They Have Died Before Death.

I Am Not From East Or West Not Up From The Ground Or Out Of The Ocean My Place Is Placeless A Trace Of The Traceless I Belong To The Beloved

You Have Been A Prisoner Of A Little Pond I Am The Ocean And Its Turbulent Flood Come Merge With Me Leave This World Of Ignorance

I Am So Small I Can Hardly Be Seen. How Can This Great Love Be Inside Me? Look At Your Eyes. They Are Small, But They See Enormous Things.

The Men Of God Are Like Fishes In The Ocean; They Pop Up Into View On The Surface Here And There And Everywhere, As They Please.