Poet unknown

“Dissolve your ego if you wish to rise — for the seed, only by merging into the dust, becomes a garden in bloom.”

“Run to this one for shelter, then to that one — there, you have gone and wrecked your own life. They have all fixed the blame on you alone — so go on, carry everyone's sins upon your own head.”

“We will show you our splendour — only wait. We will reveal who we are — only wait. Weep us our fill of blood-tears today; tomorrow we will make you weep — only wait. As long as the pen will serve we will use the pen, then we will raise the sword too — only wait. We are silent, so you have taken us for mute; we will raise an uproar too — only wait. Do not forget — it was we who seated you on that throne; it is we who will lift you off it — only wait.”

“Should I die in the dust of disgrace — what am I to do? Should I hold my flight back, or fly away — what am I to do? What can I possibly do to bring your pride some peace — should I fall, should I break, should I scatter — what am I to do?”

“Tongues began to wag, lips began to open wide — when fortune turned, even the mute took up slander. Temple and mosque were built for worship; here the priest and the brahmin have set themselves up as gods. Now I alone must tend my own wound — I hear the dealers in poison have gone into the trade of medicine. When people could not rise to my stature, they began to dig away the earth beneath my feet.”

“My God, what am I to do with my thoughts — in this city of the blind, what use have I for light? I must walk; my destination lies miles away — the trouble is, what do I do with the blisters on my feet? My own heart is enough for my worship — what need have I of the mosque, what need of the temple? I know that to think is now a crime — but what am I to do with the questions rising in my heart?”

“I am victory itself, I am defeat itself — I am the thing that lies beyond the reach of your control.”

“Let whoever wishes carry a blessing away from us mendicants — who knows where the wind will carry us tomorrow. Truly, we have little that is worth the giving — and yet, let whoever wishes carry away from us the art of how to live.”

“The real flight of life is still to come; the test of your resolve is still to come. So far you have measured out only a fistful of earth — ahead of you, the whole sky is still to come.”

“Having set the city ablaze, the king remarked: 'A great appetite for spectacle has risen in my heart today.' Lowering their heads, all the king's worshippers spoke up at once: 'Long may the appetite live, Your Majesty — there are plenty more cities.'”

“Those raised in darkness — how would they ever know the dawn? It is the lovers of the dark who are afraid of the light.”