The Rose is without 'why'—she blooms because she blooms.
Don't think that some tomorrow you'll see God's Light. You see it now or err in darkest night.
Love is difficult, because loving is not enough: We must, like God, ourselves be Love.
God, whose love and joy are present everywhere, can't come to visit you unless you aren't there.
The Rose which here on earth is now perceived by me, has blossomed thus in god from all eternity.
Christ could be born a thousand times in Bethlehem - but all in vain until He is born in me.
If in your heart you make a manger for his birth then God will once again become a child on earth.
The rose does not have a why; it blossums without reason, forgetful of self and oblivious to our vision.
The rose that with you earthly eyes you see, has flowered in God from all eternity.
The rose is without 'why'; it blooms simply because it blooms. It pays no attention to itself, nor does it ask whether anyone sees it.
Paradise is at your own center; unless you find it there, there is no way to enter.
God is a pure no-thing, concealed in now and here; the less you reach for him, the more he will appear.
God does not care what good you did, but why you did it. He does not grade the fruit but probes the core and tests the root.
By the will art thou lost, by the will art thou found, by the will art thou free, captive, and bound.
A rose is but a rose, it blooms because it blooms; it thinks not of itself, nor asks if it is seen.
We keep so busy talking we are so keen to act that we forget that in the heart lies all we need untapped, intact.
What is outside yourself does not convey much worth; Clothes do not make the man, the saddle not the horse.
The one awakened liberated sees all things as one unseparated.
Three days: Today, Tomorrow and Yesterday, I know, Yet if the past were cancelled within the here and now, And then the future hidden, I could regain that Day, Which I, before I was, had lived in God's own way.
I am as vast as God; there is nothing in the world O Miracle: that can shut me up in myself.
It isn't bread that feeds you; it is life and the spirit that feed you through bread.
God never does withdraw; His works come to no halt; If you don't feel His force, yourself must be at fault.
Nothing can throw thee into the infernal abyss so much as this detested word - heed well! - this mine and thine.
Time is of your own making; Its clock ticks in your head. The moment you stop thought Time too stops dead.
The rose has no 'Why?' It flowers because it flowers.
If Christ were born in Bethlehem a thousand times and not in thee thyself; then art thou lost eternally.
Though Christ a thousand times in Bethlehem be born, If he's not born in thee thy soul is still forlorn.
I am like God and God like me. I am as large as God. He is as small as I. He cannot above me nor I beneath him be.
The name of Jesus is as ointment poured forth; It nourishes, and illumines, and stills the anguish of the soul.
A monk asks:Is there anything more miraculous than the wonders of nature?The master answers:Yes, your awareness of the wonders of nature.
Do not seek God in outer space-- Your heart is the only place in which to meet Him face to face.
Springtime is at hand. When will you ever bloom, if not here and now?
