Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along. – Rumi, as interpreted by Coleman Barks

Don’t knock on any random door like a beggar. Reach your long hand out to another door, beyond where you go on the street, the street where everyone says, “How are you?” and no one says How aren’t you? – Rumi

You are a fountain of the sun’s light. I am a willow shadow on the ground. You make my raggedness silky. – Rumi

Where will you plant your grief-seeds? We need ground to scrape and hoe, not the sky of unspecified desire. – Rumi