If only we know, boss, what the stones and rain and flowers say.Maybe they call -- call us -- and we don’t hear them.When will people’s ears open, boss?When shall we have our eyes open to see?When shall we open our arms to embrace everything -- stones, rain, flowers, and men?What d'you think about that, boss?And what do your books have to say about it.
The world is not a place but the vastness of the soul. And the soul is nothing more than love, limitless, all that moves us toward knowing what is true. I once thought love was supposed to be nothing but bliss. I now know it is also worry and grief, hope and trust. ... If people we love die, then they are lost only to our ordinary senses. If we remember, we can find them anytime with our hundred secret senses.