Solitude is a silent storm that breaks down all our dead branches.
Love has no desire but to fulfill itself. To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving.
How beautiful to find a heart that loves you,
without asking you for anything.
There must be something strangely sacred in salt. It is in our tears and in the sea.
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.