When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music.
Work is love made visible.
And if you cannot work with love but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms of those who work with joy.
For if you bake bread with indifference, you bake a bitter bread that feeds but half man’s hunger.
And if you grudge the crushing of the grapes, your grudge distils a poison in the wine.
And if you sing though as angels, and love not the singing, you muffle man’s ears to the voices of the day and the voices of the night.
Trust the dreams, forin them is hidden the gate to eternity.
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
Say not, ‘I have found the truth,’ but rather, ‘I have found a truth.’
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. And how else can it be? I say to you they are unseparable. The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
- The lovers (crystalmoons.wordpress.com)