A Pen Went Scribbling Along. When It

You've Come To Know The Fortunate And The Inauspicious Stars, But You Don't Know Whether You Yourself Are Fortunate Or Lucky.

Not Christian Or Jew Or Muslim, Not Hindu, Buddhist, Sufi Or Zen. Not Any Religion Or Cultural System. I Am Not Of The East, Nor Of The West.... My Place Is Placeless, A Trace Of The Traceless.

God Looks Not At Your Form, Nor At Your Deeds, But At Your Heart.

Be Melting Snow. Wash Yourself Of Yourself.

You Fill Yourself With The Sharp Pain Of Love, Rather Than Its Fulfillment.