Inside of us, there’s a continual autumn. Our leaves fall and are blown out over the water. – Rumi

Let yourself become living poetry. – Rumi

Sorrows are the rags of old clothes and jackets that serve to cover, and then are taken off. That undressing, and the beautiful naked body underneath, is the sweetness that comes after grief. – Rumi

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