“O my love my dear lady
The world is not very big
There is only room for our wonder
And the light leaning winds of heaven
Are not more sweet or pure
Than your mouth on my throat
O my love there are larks in our morning
And the finding flame of your hands
And the moss on the bank of the river
And the butterflies
And the whirling-mad
Butterflies!”

“O no, my heart can never be
Again in lighted hopes the same —
The love that lingers there for thee
Has more of ashes than of flame.”

“Stranger to love and the benevolent
hand of age……
History has recorded on our papery hearts
By the reed
And each partition of the reed
Complains of the Masnavi of our groans: ………..??
The lines in your hands
(these winding roads)
Is familiar to my eye.
Believe me
The lines in your hand
Are more familiar to me than my own lines…
Ah
O friend…
They buried us together in the grave
A thousand years ago”

“O thrush, your song is passing sweet
But never a song that you have sung,
Is half so sweet as thrushes sang
When my dear Love and I were young.”

“My past, O Lord, to Your mercy; my present, to Your love; my future to Your providence.”

“And someone saved my life tonight, sugar bear.
You almost had your hooks in me, didn't you dear?
You nearly had me roped and tied,
Altar-bound, hypnotized.
Sweet freedom whispered in my ear,
You're a butterfly.
And butterflies are free to fly,
Fly away, high away, bye bye.”

“You are sweet, O Love, dear Love,
You are soft as the nesting dove.
Come to my heart and bring it rest
As the bird flies home to its welcome nest.”

“Your kisses lift me higher… like the sweet song of a choir. You light my morning sky, with burning love.”

“Farewell, my great one, my own, farewell, my pride, farewell, my swift, deep, dear river, how I loved your daylong splashing, how I loved to plunge into your cold waves.”

“There is
By my leaning over the precipice
Of your presence and your absence in hopeless fusion
My finding the secret
Of loving you
Always for the first time”