The object of my worship lies beyond perceptions reach. For those who see, the Ka'ba is a compass, nothing more.
Consumed by the agony of remembrance The remembrance of night's festive company The one remaining candle flickers and dies.
Whoever can't see the whole in every part plays at blind man's bluff. A wise man tastes the entire Tigris in every sip.
The world is no more than the Beloved's face. And the desire of the One to know its own beauty, we exist.
The world is a playground -Indian
Love cannot be seeded into someone. It is a fire that is difficult to kindle but once it takes on, it is equally difficult to extinguish.
Alas, not all things in life are easy; Even man struggles to be human.
Whereas it is difficult for everything to work out easily, A man cannot even afford to be a human
This earth, burnished by hearing the name, is so certain of love, that the sky bends unceasingly down, to greet its own light.
The drop grows happy by losing itself in the river.
Since sorrow follows joy As autumn does the spring Man must transcend the joys Of earth, which sorrows bring.
Oh, Lord, it is not the sins I have committed that I regret, but those which I have had no opportunity to commit
Love demands patience, desire is restless; What color shall I paint the heart, until you savage it? You shall not ignore me when the time comes, I know, but I may turn to dust before the news reaches you.
Lest we forget: It is easy to be human, very hard to be humane
In the deadly sweep Of every wave, A thousand dangers lie in wait.
If there is a knower of tongues here, fetch him; There's a stranger in the city And he has many things to say.
I asked my soul: What is Delhi? She replied: The world is the body and Delhi its life!
For the raindrop, joy is in entering the river.
He gave me heaven and earth, and assumed I'd be satisfied; Actually I was too embarrassed to argue. The spiritual seekers are tired, two or three at each stage of the path. The rest who have given up never knew your address at all. There are so many in this gathering who wish the candle well. But if the being of the candle is melting, what can the sorrow-sharers do?
