Be A Spot Of Ground Where Nothing

A Pen Went Scribbling Along. When It Tried To Write Love, It Broke.

We Can't Find The Truth Listening To Our Own Voice's Echo. We Can Find Ourselves Only In Someone's Mirror

This Place Is A Dream. Only A Sleeper Considers It Real. Then Death Comes Like Dawn, And You Wake Up Laughing At What You Thought Was Your Grief.

Doubt Is A Precipice On The Way To God. Blessed Is He Who Is Freed From Its Bonds. He Who Fares Without Any Doubt, Adhere To His Footprints If You Do Not Know The Way. Cleave To The Footprints Of The Deer And Advance With Care That You May Reach The Musk-gland. By Means Of Such Trekking, Even If You Walk On Fire, You Will Reach The Luminous Peak.

The Quieter We Become, The More We Can Hear.