Because poetry is the language of felt thought and utterance… of admissions and oaths as sacred as life itself, it is evident in an economy by its absence. As long as people are perceived in economic terms alone, poetry (and all the other arts, for that matter) will be regarded as ornamental or irrelevant or simply dispensable… the disregard of poetry will be as fatal to their spiritual lives as the deprivation of oxygen would be to their physical lives. Why? Because poetry tells us who we are, what our surroundings mean to us, and what waits to be discovered beneath the apparent.…It is the language of the heart…It is at the same time the language of the senses.

For why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind?
The air is cut away before,
And closes from behind...

And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald...

And a good south wind sprung up behind,
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariner's hollo!
"God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends that plague thus thee!--
Why look'st thou so?"--"With my cross-bow
I shot the Albatross."

A real artist may create his picture in a lonely desert... gods look over his shoulder; he creates in their company. What does he care whether or not anybody admires his picture?

Be wild and crazy and drunk with Love, if you are too careful, Love will not find you.

No one knows what makes the soul wake up so happy! Maybe a dawn breeze has blown the veil from the face of God.

This silence, this moment, every moment, if it's genuinely inside you, brings what you need. There's nothing to believe. Only when I stopped believing in myself did I come into this beauty. Sit quietly, and listen for a voice that will say, 'Be more silent.' Die and be quiet. Quietness is the surest sign that you've died. Your old life was a frantic running from silence. Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking. Live in silence.

Whoever acts with respect will get respect.

Beware of the goat from its front side, of the horse - from its back side, and the evil man - from any side.

The spirit of humility is sweeter than honey, and those who nourish themselves with this honey produce sweet fruit.

As the soul becomes purged and purified by means of this fire of love, it becomes ever more enkindled in love. This enkindling of love is not always felt by the soul, but only at times when contemplation assails it less vehemently.

If the memory is annihilated, the devil is powerless, and it liberates us from a lot of sorrow, affliction and sadness.

The unmortified appetites result in killing a man in his relationship with God.

On that day God will not judge us about psalmody, nor for the neglect of prayer, but because by abandoning them, we have opened our door to the demons.

Oysters are more beautiful than any religion . . . there's nothing in Christianity or Buddhism that quite matches the sympathetic unselfishness of an oyster.

Christ: I dislike him very much. Still, I can stand him. What I cannot stand is the wretched band of people whose profession is to hoodwink us about him.

To put one’s trust in God is only a longer way of saying that one will chance it.

That kind of life is most happy which affords us most opportunities of gaining our own esteem.

When people find a man of the most distinguished abilities as a writer their inferior while he is with them, it must be highly gratifying to them.