Rumi

Miłujący Boga nie mają religii, tylko samego Boga

This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.

Every tree and plant in the meadow seemed to be dancing, those which average eyes would see as fixed and still.

The drum of the realization of the promise is beating, we are sweeping the road to the sky. Your joy is here today, what remains for tomorrow?

Don't grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.

Out beyond ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing there is a field. I'll meet you there.

We come spinning out of nothingness, scattering stars like dust.

Knock, And He'll open the door Vanish, And He'll make you shine like the sun. Fall, And He'll raise you to the heavens. Become nothing, And He'll turn you into everything.

Who says the eternal being does not exist? Who says the sun has gone out? Someone who climbs up on the roof and closes his eyes tight, and says, I don't see anything.

Drumsound rises on the air, its throb, my heart. A voice inside the beat says, "I know you're tired, but come. This is the way."

Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.

Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.

Raise your words, not your voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.