Rumi

In each moment the fire rages, it will burn away a hundred veils. And carry you a thousand steps toward your goal.

I am dying into your mystery, and dying, I am now no other than that mystery. I open to your majesty as an orchard welcomes rain, and twenty times that.

Things are such that someone lifting a cup, or watching the rain, petting a dog, or singing, just singing - could be doing as much for this universe as anyone.

Beyond ideas, there's a field. Will you meet me there?

The world's flattery and hypocrisy is a sweet morsel: eat less of it, for it is full of fire. Its fire is hidden while its taste is manifest, but its smoke becomes visible in the end.

If you wish for light, Be ready to receive light.

She loved him so much she concealed his name in many phrases, the inner meanings known only to her.

My head is bursting with the joy of the unknown. My heart is expanding a thousand fold.

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's search for love and wisdom.

I am bewildered by the magnificence of your beauty; and wish to see you with a hundred eyes . . . I am in the house of mercy, and my heart is a place of prayer.

The ocean of the body crashes against the ocean of the heart. Between them is a barrier they cannot cross.

Silence is the sea, and speech is like the river. The sea is seeking you: don't seek the river. Don't turn your head away from the signs offered by the sea.

I saw grief drinking a cup of sorrow and called out, 'It tastes sweet, does it not?' 'You've caught me,' grief answered, 'and you've ruined my business. How can I sell sorrow, when you know it's a blessing?

Pale sunlight, pale the wall. Love moves away. The light changes I need more grace than I thought.

You've seen my descent, now watch my rising.

Forgive: if you never know forgiveness, _x000D_ You'll never know the blessings that God gives.

Who gets up early to discover the moment light begins?

God has allowed some magical reversal to occur, so that you see the scorpion pit as an object of desire, and all the beautiful expanse around it as dangerous and swarming with snakes.

Without you the instruments would die. One sits close beside you. Another takes a long kiss. The tambourine begs, Touch my skin so I can be myself. Let me feel you enter each limb bone by bone, that what died last night can be whole today. Why live some soberer way, and feel you ebbing out? I won't do it. Either give me enough wine or leave me alone, now that I know how it is to be with you in constant conversation.

You have forgotten the One who doesn't care about ownership, who doesn't try to turn a profit from every human exchange.

This is enough was always true. We just haven't seen it.