Madam’s Soliloquy

Nothing's left of me except for you; nothing's left of you except for me -- a stranger caressing his lover's thigh: O my stranger! What are we to do with what's left for us of the stillness, of the siesta that separates legend from legend?

Peace is not the absence of war; it is a virtue; a state of mind; a disposition for benevolence; confidence; and justice.

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly and wants to rip to shreds all your erroneous notions of truth that make you fight within yourself...

All creatures hold hands as we pass through this miraculous existence we share on the way to even a greater being of soul, a being of just ecstatic light, forever entwined and at play with Him.

Your love Should never be offered to the mouth of a Stranger, Only to someone Who has the valor and daring To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife Then weave them into a blanket To protect you.

When God takes care of the heart . . ., the breast lightens and the mystery of the spiritual realm [malakut] is revealed, and the veil of error vanishes and the reality of divine things shines in the heart.

A friend is one to whom one may pour out the contents of one's heart, chaff and grain together, knowing that gentle hands will take and sift it, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.