Hormuz L'isola arcobaleno

The garden of love is green without limit and yields many fruits other than sorrow or joy. Love is beyond either condition: without spring, without autumn, it is always fresh.

A little and a little, collected together, becomes a great deal; the heap in the barn consists of single grains, and drop and drop make the inundation.

You left and I cried tears of blood. My sorrow grows. Its not just that You left. But when You left my eyes went with You. Now, how will I cry?

Oh, bird of my soul, fly away now, For I possess a hundred fortified towers.

Water, stories, the body, all the things we do, are mediums that hid and show what&#39;s hidden.

You&#39;ve come to know the fortunate and the inauspicious stars, but you don&#39;t know whether you yourself are fortunate or lucky.

Something opens our wings. Something makes boredom and hurt disappear. Someone fills the cup in front of us: We taste only sacredness.

The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don&#39;t finally meet somewhere. They&#39;re in each other all along.

Everyone has been made for some particular work, and the desire for that work has been put in every heart.

This is the essence of all sciences - that you should know who you will be when the Day of Reckoning arrives.

If you find the mirror of the heart dull, the rust has not been cleared from its face.

Through Love all that is bitter will be sweet, Through Love all that is copper will be gold, Through Love all dregs will become wine, through Love all pain will turn to medicine.