Sublime

Work is love made visible.

And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

Mon pauvre ami, as-tu donc déjà oublié l’histoire de ce fils de brahmane appelé Siddhartha, cette histoire si édifiante que tu m’as racontée un jour à cette même place ? Qui donc a protégé le Samana Siddhartha du Sansara, du péché, de la cupidité et des folies ? Est-ce la piété de son père, sont-ce les exhortations de ses maîtres, son propre savoir

‘When you’re drowning you can’t call for help, you can’t wave your arms, you just sink. Your family can be standing on the beach waving cheerfully to you, completely unaware that you’re dying.’

he alone is great who turns the voice of the wind into a song made sweeter by his own loving.

“And what is love, in the end?” Alabaster said. “Except the irrational desire to put evolutionary competitiveness aside in order to ease someone else’s journey through life?”

And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered. For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot

But let there be spaces in your togetherness. And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. LOVE one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and