Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
A woman asks the prophet to tell of pain. He compares it to the stone of a fruit that must break so that its heart may stand in the sun.
Say not, “I have found the truth,” but rather, “I have found a truth.”
Work is love made visible.
Your children are not your children. / They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines.
A house divided against itself cannot stand.
The rank is but the guinea’s stamp, / The Man’s the gowd for a’ that.