I carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) i am never without it (anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)

· · ·

— E.E. Cummings

The flute of the Infinite is played without ceasing, and its sound is love: When love renounces all limits, it reaches truth. How widely the fragrance spreads! It has no end, nothing stands in its way. The form of this melody is bright like a million suns: incomparably sounds the vina, the vina of the notes of truth.

· · ·

— Kabir

Kabîr ponders and says: "He who has neither caste nor country, who is formless and without quality, fills all space." The Creator brought into being the Game of Joy: and from the word Om the Creation sprang. The earth is His joy; His joy is the sky; His joy is the flashing of the sun and the moon; His joy is the beginning, the middle, and the end; His joy is eyes, darkness, and light. Oceans and waves are His joy: His joy the Sarasvati, the Jumna, and the Ganges. The Guru is One: and life and death., union and separation, are all His plays of joy! His play the land and water, the whole universe! His play the earth and the sky! In play is the Creation spread out, in play it is established. The whole world, says Kabîr, rests in His play, yet still the Player remains unknown.

· · ·

— Kabir

A sore pain troubles me day and night, and I cannot sleep; I long for the meeting with my Beloved, and my father's house gives me pleasure no more. The gates of the sky are opened, the temple is revealed: I meet my husband, and leave at His feet the offering of my body and my mind.

· · ·

— Kabir