The Work Of Magic Is This, That

A Strange Passion Is Moving In My Head My Heart Has Become A Bird Which Searches In The Sky. Every Part Of Me Goes In Different Directions. Is It Really So That The One I Love Is Everywhere?

You Are The Essence Of The Essence, The Intoxication Of Love. I Long To Sing Your Praises But Stand Mute With The Agony Of Wishing In My Heart !

He Is Like A Man Using A Candle To Look For The Sun

In Order To Understand The Dance One Must Be Still. And In Order To Truly Understand Stillness One Must Dance.

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.