I do not know who lives here in my chest, or why the smile comes. I am not myself, more the bare green knob of a rose that lost every leaf and petal to the morning wind. – Rumi

I turn all thorn then, but you come back again and make my thorniness fragrant and pink and petaled. – Rumi

And even if this world burns up hidden harps will still play here. – Rumi

How can I know anything about the past or the future, when the light of the Beloved shines only Now. – Rumi