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.
Let the beauty of what you love be what you do.
It may be that the satisfaction I need depends on my going away, so that when I've gone and come back, I'll find it at home.
Everyone has been made for some particular work, and the desire for that work has been put in every heart.
Something opens our wings. Something makes boredom and hurt disappear. Someone fills the cup in front of us: We taste only sacredness.