Everyone has been made for some particular work, and the desire for that work has been put in every heart.

Joy lives concealed in grief.

Look at your heart and tongue, one feels but deaf and dumb, the other speaks in words and signs.

Everyone sees the unseen in proportion to the clarity of his heart, and that depends upon how much he has polished it. Whoever has polished it more sees more - more unseen forms become manifest to him.

Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.

One day You will take my heart completely and make it more fiery than a dragon. Your eyelashes will write on my heart the poem that could never come from the pen of a poet.