“Like ThisIf anyone asks youhow the perfect satisfactionof all our sexual wantingwill look, lift your faceand say,Like this.When someone mentions the gracefulnessof the nightsky, climb up on the roofand dance and say,Like this.If anyone wants to know what "spirit" is,or what "God’s fragrance" means,lean your head toward him or her.Keep your face there close.Like this.When someone quotes the old poetic imageabout clouds gradually uncovering the moon,slowly loosen knot by knot the stringsof your robe.Like this.If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead,don’t try to explain the miracle.Kiss me on the lips.Like this. Like this.When someone asks what it meansto "die for love," pointhere.If someone asks how tall I am, frownand measure with your fingers the spacebetween the creases on your forehead.This tall.The soul sometimes leaves the body, the returns.When someone doesn’t believe that,walk back into my house.Like this.When lovers moan,they’re telling our story.Like this.I am a sky where spirits live.Stare into this deepening blue,while the breeze says a secret.Like this.When someone asks what there is to do,light the candle in his hand.Like this.How did Joseph’s scent come to Jacob?Huuuuu.How did Jacob’s sight return?Huuuu.A little wind cleans the eyes.Like this.When Shams comes back from Tabriz,he’ll put just his head around the edgeof the door to surprise us Like this.”

“It's sweet and everything, but it's like you're not even there sometimes. It's great that you can listen and be a shoulder to someone, but what about when someone doesn't need a shoulder? What if they need the arms or something like that? You can't just sit there and put everybody's lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love. You just can't. You have to do things." "Like what?" I asked. My mouth was dry. "I don't know. Like take their hands when the slow song comes up for a change. Or be the one who asks someone for a date. Or tell people what you need. Or what you want.”

“I've never understood it. That is always the first thing someone asks: Where are you from. Not 'What do you like?' or 'What do you believe?' or even 'What is your mother like?' which all have more bearing on the person I am. And if I don't tell them where I'm from, they try to guess.... It drives them mad, as if to know me they need to know where I am from.”

“… ‘Didn’t you ever wonder what it would be like to be with someone else?’ And you’ll say… Lincoln, what will you say?”“I’ll say, ‘No.’”“That’s not very romantic.”“It’s none of their business.”“Tell me, then,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt and putting her arm around his waist. “Tell me now, won’t you ever wonder what it would have been like to be with someone else?”“First, buckle up,” he said. She did. “I won’t wonder that because I already know what it would be like to be with someone else.”“How do you know?” she said.“I just do.”“Then, what would it be like?”“It would be less,” he said.”

“Do I look like I want to be involved in your teen love saga? Ask someone who cares.”

“I am not sure exactly what heaven will be like, but I know that when we die and it comes time for God to judge us, He will not ask, 'How many good things have you done in your life?' rather He will ask, 'How much love did you put into what you did?”