Give all up to her and do not think
of it. The soul pours in a current to
her, there is no time to seek out money,
name nor fame, no time to think of anything
but her. If we go on remembering,
then will come into our hearts that infinite,
wonderful bliss of love; if we don't see
anything but love we will not be
sufferers of thought. A pilgrim knocked at the
door of a Sufi saint and asked him who
was there, the saint replied, "Is anybody
here except her?" Desires are beads
of glass. Love of her increases every
moment and is only known by feeling it.
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