Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Deep is your longing for the land of your memories and the dwelling-place of your greater desires; and our love would not bind you nor our needs hold you.
But tell me, who is he that can offend the spirit? Shall the nightingale offend the stillness of the night, or the firefly the stars?
All you have shall some day be given; Therefore, give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors’.
Perhaps the dark can veil trees and flowers from the eye. But it can’t hide love from the soul.
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance. And now it was evening. And Almitra the seeress said, Blessed be this day and this place and your spirit that has spoken. And he answered, Was it I who spoke? Was I not also a listener? Then he descended the steps of.
A voice cannot carry the tongue and the lips that give it wings. Alone must it seek the ether. And alone and without his nest shall the eagle fly across the sun.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself. Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.
Your clothes conceal much of your beauty, yet they hide not the unbeautiful. And though you seek in garments the freedom of privacy you may find in them a harness and a chain. Would that you could meet the sun and the wind with more of your skin and less of your raiment. For the breath of life is in the sunlight and the hand of life is in the wind.
Forget not that modesty is for a shield against the eye of the unclean. And when the unclean shall be no more, what were modesty but a fetter and a fouling of the mind?
And if there come the singers and the dancers and the flute-players, – buy of their gifts also. For they too are gatherers of fruit and frankincense, and that which they bring, though fashioned of dreams, is raiment and food for your soul.
The cup does not entice the lips unless the wine’s colour is seen through the transparent crystal.
Miserable is the man who loves a woman and takes her for a wife, pouring at her feet the sweat of his skin and the blood of his body and the life of his heart, and placing in her hands the fruit of his toil and the revenue of hi s diligence; for when he slowly wakes up, he finds that the heart, which he endeavoured to buy, is given freely and in sincerity to another man for the enjoyment of its hidden secrets and deepest love.
He stood up and looked at me even as the seasons might look down upon the field, and He smiled. And He said again: “All men love you for themselves. I love you for yourself.
And knows that yesterday is but today’s memory and tomorrow is today’s dream.
The flowers of spring are winter’s dreams related at the breakfast table of the angels.
It is said that unsophistication makes a man empty and that emptiness makes him carefree.
And though heavy-grounded ships await the tide upon your shores, yet, even like an ocean, you cannot hasten your tides.
He drank life from these breasts now dry, and he took his first steps in this garden, grasping these fingers that are now like trembling reeds.