Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon your reason and your judgment wage war against your passion and your appetite.
Your body is the harp of the soul.
I am bored with gabbers and their gab; my soul abhors them. . . . Is there any place where there is no traffic in empty talk? Is there on this earth one who does not worship himself talking?
The soul is an embryo in the body of Man, and the day of death is the Day of awakening, for it is the Great era of labour and the rich Hour of creation.
I had a second birth when my soul and my body loved one another and were married.
Seven times have I despised my soul: The sixth time when she despised the ugliness of a face, and knew not that it was one of her own masks.
At ebb tide I wrote a line upon the sand, and gave it all my heart and all my soul. At flood tide I returned to read what I had inscribed and found my ignorance upon the shore.
This for God and this for myself; This for my soul, and this other for my body?
You work that you may keep peace with the earth and the soul of the earth.
Your body is the harp of your soul and it is yours to bring forth sweet music from it or confused sounds.
if you cannot but weep when your soul summons you to prayer, she should spur you again and yet again, though weeping, until you shall come laughing
Poetry, my dear friends, is a sacred incarnation of a smile. Poetry is a sigh that dries the tears. Poetry is a spirit who dwells in the soul, whose nourishment is the heart, whose wine is affection. Poetry that comes not in this form is a false messiah.
Love descends upon our souls by the will of God and not by the demand or the plea of the individual.
The philosopher's soul dwells in his head, the poet's soul is in his heart; the singer's soul lingers about his throat, but the soul of the dancer abides in all her body.
A traveller I am, and a navigator, and everyday I discover a new region within my soul.
Those to whom worshiping is a window, to open but also to shut, have not yet visited the house of their souls whose windows are open from dawn to dawn.
He who loses his mother loses a pure soul who blesses and guards him constantly.
For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, "Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks." Thus I became a madman.
I have passed the mountain peak and my soul is soaring in the firmament of Complete and unbounded freedom; I am in comfort, I am in peace.
The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.
Say not, I have found the path of the soul Say rather, I have met the soul walking upon my path.
In the depth of my soul there is a wordless song.
The thirst of soul is sweeter than the wine of material things, and the fear of spirit is dearer than the security of the body.
The mother is everything - she is our consolation in sorrow, our hope in misery, and our strength in weakness. She is the source of love, mercy, sympathy, and forgiveness. He who loses his mother loses a pure soul who blesses and guards him constantly
In the depth of my soul there is A wordless song - a song that lives In the seed of my heart. It refuses to melt with ink on Parchment; it engulfs my affection In a transparent cloak and flows, But not upon my lips.
Beauty is not a need but an ecstasy. It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth, But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.
Life without Freedom is like a body without a soul, and Freedom without Thought is like a confused spirit. . . . Life, Freedom and Thought are three-in-one, and are everlasting and shall never pass away.
Oh, heart, if one should say to you that the soul perishes like the body, answer that the flower withers, but the seed remains.
Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody.
Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral.
Beauty is that which attracts your soul, and that which loves to give and not to receive.
There is a desire deep within the soul which drives man from the seen to the unseen, to philosophy and to the divine.
Let me, O let me bathe my soul in colours; let me swallow the sunset and drink the rainbow.
The lust for comfort kills the passions of the soul.