Whatever Lifts The Corners Of Your Mouth,

The Intellectual Is Always Showing Off, The Lover Is Always Getting Lost. The Intellectual Runs Away. Afraid Of Drowning; The Whole Business Of Love Is To Drown In The Sea. Intellectuals Plan Their Repose; Lovers Are Ashamed To Rest. The Lover Is Always Alone. Even Surrounded By People; Like Water And Oil, He Remains Apart. The Man Who Goes To The Trouble Of Giving Advice To A Lover Get Nothing. He's Mocked By Passion. Love Is Like Musk. It Attracts Attention. Love Is A Tree, And The Lovers Are Its Shade.

A Craftsman Pulled A Reed From The Reedbed, Cut Holes In It, And Called It A Human Being. Since Then, It's Been Wailing A Tender Agony Of Parting, Never Mentioning The Skill That Gave It Life As A Flute

Poetry Can Be Dangerous, Especially Beautiful Poetry, Because It Gives The Illusion Of Having Had The Experience Without Actually Going Through It.

Your Breath Touched My Soul And I Saw Beyond All Limits.

There Are A Thousand Ways To Kneel And Kiss The Ground; There Are A Thousand Ways To Go Home Again.