I am moved by fancies that are curledAround these images, and cling:The notion of some infinitely gentleInfinitely suffering thing. — T.S. Eliot, from “Preludes,” Prufrock and Other Observations. (Forgotten Books September 27, 2015) Originally published 1917.
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. — Hafez
I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being. — Hafez
The Sky where we live Is no place to lose your wings. So love, love, Love — Hafez