Suffering is a gift; in its hidden mercy.

Where there is ruin, there is hope for a treasure.

Be patient where you sit in the dark. The dawn is coming.

Don’t get lost in your pain, know that one day your pain will become your cure.

Don’t turn away. Keep your gaze on the bandaged place. That’s where the light enters you.

One of the marvels of the world: The sight of a soul sitting in prison with the key in its hand.

Everyone is overridden by thoughts; that’s why they have so much heartache and sorrow.

But listen to me. For one moment quit being sad. Hear blessings dropping their blossoms around you.

Whoever finds love beneath hurt and grief disappears into emptiness with a thousand new disguises.

The wound is the place where the light enters you.

Grief can be the garden of compassion. If you keep your heart open through everything, your pain can become your greatest ally in your life’s search for love and wisdom.

Join the community of saints and know the delight of your own soul. Enter the ruins of your heart and learn the meaning of humility.

Sorrow… It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place.

Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place.

Don’t be sad! Because God sends hope in the most desperate moments. Don’t forget, the heaviest rain comes out of the darkest clouds.

Don’t dismiss the heart, even if it’s filled with sorrow. God’s treasures are buried in broken hearts.

This place is a dream. Only a sleeper considers it real. Then death comes like dawn, and you wake up laughing at what you thought was your grief.

Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.

Your depression is connected to your insolence and refusal to praise.

Whenever sorrow comes, be kind to it. For God has placed a pearl in sorrow’s hand.

Either give me more wine or leave me alone.

We may cry out desperately for time to pause in her passage, but time is deaf to every plea and rushes on. Over the bleached bones and jumbled residues of numerous civilizations are written the pathetic words: ‘Too late’.

“I did not know how to reach him, how to catch up with him... The land of tears is so mysterious.” 

“I remembered the fox. One runs the risk of crying a bit if one allows oneself to be tamed.”