Land of the rising sun

Grief can be the garden of compassion. If you keep your heart open through everything, your pain can become your greatest ally in your life&#39;s search for love and wisdom.

When someone beats a rug, the blows are not against the rug, but against the dust in it.

What shall I say, O Muslims, I know not myself, I am neither a Christian, nor a Jew, nor a Zoroastrian, nor a Muslim.

Love will find its way through all languages on its own.

This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.

Even after all this time, the sun never says to the earth, &#39;You owe me.&#39; Look what happens with a love like that. It lights the whole sky.

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.

I fear God and next to God I mostly fear them that fear him not.

When I die, I shall soar with angels, and when I die to the angels, what I shall become you cannot imagine.