Money is like love; it kills slowly and painfully the one who withholds it, and enlivens the other who turns it on his fellow man.

A woman whom Providence has provided with beauty of spirit and body is a truth, at the same time both open and secret, which we can understand only by love, and touch only by virtue.

Life without love is like a tree without blossoms or fruit.” “Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving

The earth is like a beautiful bride who needs no manmade jewels to heighten her loveliness...

Marriage is like a golden ring in a chain, whose beginning is a glance and whose ending is eternity.

He alone is great who turns the voice of the wind into a song made sweeter by his own loving.

Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart.

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

It is wrong to think that love comes from long companionship and persevering courtship. Love is the offspring of spiritual affinity and unless that affinity is created in a moment, it will not be created for years or even generations.

One day you will ask me which is more important? My life or yours? I will say mine and you will walk away not knowing that you are my life.

I would tell you more of Him, but how shall I? When love becomes vast love becomes wordless. And when memory is overladen it seeks the silent deep.

Passionate love is a quenchless thirst....

And is not time even as love is, undivided and paceless?

When love beckons to you, follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep.

And is not time even as love is, undivided and paceless? But if in you thought you must measure time into seasons, let each season encircle all the other seasons, And let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing.

Love is life sharing, not for hurt, Love is alive both not ambiguous. Love is whole life, not an affair.

Life has two halves: one patient and one afire. Love is the fiery half. Make me, O Lord, food for the flames.

Love is all I can possess and no one can deprive me of it. Kahlil Gibran (Visions of the Prophet)

Love is quivering happiness.

Love is a sacred mystery. To those who love, it remains forever wordless; But to those who do not love, it may be but a heartless jest.

Love is timeless.... Death does not separate the lover from the beloved.

Love is a gracious host to his guests though to the unbidden his house is a mirage and a mockery.

For love is sufficient unto love.

Love is the gentle smile upon the lips of beauty.

Love is a magic ray emitted from the burning core of the soul and illuminating the surrounding earth. It enables us to perceive life as a beautiful dream between one awakening and another.

Love is not without its flaws. The stronger the love, the more it tests you. Compassion and empathy will make true love persist.

Between what is said and not meant, and what is meant and not said, most of love is lost.

Here I sit between my brother the mountain and my sister the sea. We three are one in loneliness, and the love that binds us together is deep and strong and strange.

The strong grows in solitude where the weak withers away.

You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps. Yet you are not evil when you go thither limping. For those who limp go not backwards. But you who are strong and swift, see that you do not limp before the lame, deeming it kindness.

A minute moving among the patterns of beauty and the dreams of love is greater and more precious than an age filled with splendor granted by the weak to the strong.

O love, whose lordly hand Has bridled my desires, And raised my hunger and my thirst To dignity and pride, Let not the strong in me and the constant Eat the bread or drink the wine That tempt my weaker self. Let me rather starve, And let my heart parch with thirst, And let me die and perish, Ere I stretch my hand To a cup you did not fill, Or a bowl you did not bless.

You who are strong and swift, see that you do not limp before the lame, deeming it kindness.

I use hate as a weapon to defend myself; had I been strong, I would never have needed that kind of weapon.

Let us disperse from our aloofness and serve the weak who made us strong, and cleanse the country in which we live. Let us teach this miserable nation to smile and rejoice with heaven's bounty and glory of life and freedom.

Humanity looks upon Jesus the Nazarene as a poor-born Who suffered misery and humiliation with all of the weak. And He is pitied, for Humanity believes He was crucified painfully. . . . And all that Humanity offers to Him is crying and wailing and lamentation. For centuries Humanity has been worshiping weakness in the person of the Savior. The Nazarene was not weak! He was strong and is strong! But the people refuse to heed the true meaning of strength.

The heart's affections are divided like the branches of the cedar tree; if the tree loses one strong branch; it will suffer but it does not die; it will pour all its vitality into the next branch so that it will grow and fill the empty place.

I sit between my brother the mountain and my sister the sea. We three are one in loneliness, and the love that binds us together is deep and strong and strange.

When you have grasped a problem clearly, face it with resolution, for that is the way of the strong.

You, the strong, have I loved, though the marks of your iron hoofs are yet upon my flesh.

Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggler, and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking. Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpetings, and farewells him with hootings, only to welcome another ruler with trumpetings again. Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years and whose strong men are yet in the cradle. Pity the nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.

Solitude has soft, silky hands, but with strong fingers it grasps the heart and makes it ache with sorrow.

You have been told that, even like a chain, you are as weak as your weakest link. This is but half the truth. You are also as strong as your strongest link. To measure you by your smallest deed is to reckon the power of ocean by the frailty of its foam. To judge you by your failures is to cast blame upon the seasons for their inconstancy.

Marriage is the union of two divinities that a third might be born on earth. It is the union of two souls in a strong love for the abolishment of separateness. It is that higher unity which fuses the separate unities within the two spirits. It is the golden ring in a chain whose beginning is a glance, and whose ending is Eternity. It is the pure rain that falls from an unblemished sky to fructify and bless the fields of divine Nature.

Poetry is not the opinion stated. It is a song that appears instead of a bloody wound or a smiling mouth.

The mute grain turns to love songs when swallowed by the nightingale.

Prayer is the song of the heart. It reaches the ear of God even if it is mingled with the cry and the tumult of a thousand men.

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night.

The very strength that protects the heart from injury is the strength that prevents the heart from enlarging to its intended greatness within. The song of the voice is sweet, but the song of the heart is the pure voice of heaven.