Kamand Quotes - Page 5

Do not be frightened, friend. Let us dance our way to God.

To be wise means to know when to stay silent.

If your mind can move mountainsand swallow gods,Why does it worry with helpless yesterdays and unborn tomorrows?If it can vomit starsand walk on split hairs,Why must it follow the samepath to despair?Everyone will tell you:'An orgasm here is just as good.

Find me. Seduce me. I want to be in love with you.

Yes, silence is painful, but if you endure it, you will hear the cadence of the entire universe.

I spent all nightweaving a poem for you to wear. You look so beautifulwhen you wear my light.

A man's shortcoming lies in the belief that he must always assert his manliness. A woman's shortcoming lies in the belief that she must always repress it.

Because you have been blessed with the gift of life, it is your duty to help others. We are all responsible for one another.

A soulmate is a direct pathway to God.

It is not enough that you look for Him.You must hunt for God each and every dayas if your life depends on it.Because it does.

It is wonderful, this whole business of tickling and kissing God every night.

I was mistaken when I said you live in my heart. How absurd I was when you live in my fingertips so that everything I touch is you. How foolish I was when you live in my toes so that everywhere I go there's you. How senseless of me to say you live in my heart when you breathe in my lungs, walk on my mind, and drink in my mouth. I came to pen another poem for you, but even every unwritten poem is you.

Mist to mist, drops to drops. For water thou art, and unto water shalt thou return.

Want to help others? Be yourself. You’ll inspire others to muster the courage to be themselves as well.

Love is the only reason that is reason enough

I think, therefore I am?No, I simply am.I am. I am. I am.I will still be if I didn't think. In fact, it is only then that I would step into a different dimension of consciousness.Yes, I will still be if I didn't think. I will still be if I stopped breathing. I will still be because you still are. My words are written and you are receiving them. We are dancing. We are making love.And when you stop reading them, they will still be because nothing ever truly ceases to exist. There is not a thing that is not. Every thought, energy, and vibration is recycled. I am and I will continue to be because I manifest as the universe, therefore I will continue to manifest as the universe.

Wake up. If your eyes are sleeping then wipe them gently. You need to be awake for this. It is a matter of life and death. Wake up! If your mind is sleeping then shake it quickly. You need to be awake for this. It is a matter of life and death. Wake up, I said! If your heart is sleeping then beat your chest! You need to be awake for life! You need to be awake for love! It is a matter of living and being alive.

Maybe stories choose how they are told and who tells them.

Extremities are flawed. Moderation is ideal, save for one occasion.So damn these eyes that weep too much.This mind that thinks too much. But never this heart that loves too much.

Each of us is like all of us and like no one else.

We cannot hunt for love. We can only surrender and become love’s prey.

To live with you is to live.To live without you is to die.

To live in love is my life’s purpose.

The reason for the past is only revealed in the future.

Here's another poem,like all others before and after,dedicated to you.There isn't anything left to be saidbut I will spend my lifetrying to put you into words.You who is every goodness,every optimismand hope.Your love is a better fate for methan anything I could wish for.If you are a part of me, then you’re the best part.And if you're separate from me, then you are my destination.But I’ve become a weary traveller,so please,let us never be apart.

They tell us the only way to move on is to forget.“Forgive,” they say.Realise that you deserve better.That maybe they deserve better.You can't fight fire with fire.Extinguish it once and for all."Do not look back," they say.They don't tell you that only one thing is needed. Only one:love.When you are filled to the brim with love,you only emanate love.You become lover and love itself.Only then will you love even the very people you wish to hate.

I write to understand what I know.

Ignorance might be bliss. But self-forgetfulness is pure ecstasy.

I will drive the world crazywith love poems for you.So they can know how magnificent you areand how crazy I am.

Love is the most integral function of our lives. That is why LOVE is only one letter away from LIVE.

Until you see beauty everywhere, in every face, until then, you are blind.

Reading poetry is like undressing before a bath. You don't undress out of fear that your clothes will become wet. You undress because you want the water to touch you. You want to completely immerse yourself in the feeling of the water and to emerge anew.

Let borders become sunlight so we traverse this Earth as one nation and drive the darkness out.

Truth is unoriginal.

How is it possible, you ask, for love to be greater than the person who does the loving? That’s because love defies the rules of reason. It is the only exception.

Because in truth, my love, if you have thought of me once then I have thought of you a thousand times. You have captured my heart. It is yours. I am at your mercy now

Forgiveness is a transformative act because it asks you to be a more empathetic and compassionate person, thereby making you better than the person you were when you were first hurt.

God’s existence is reaffirmed once we fall in with another.

Violinists wear the imprint on their necks with prideFor they are the players of harmony.Pilgrims, too, wear the imprint on their foreheads with prideFor they are the conductors of unity.And Lovers? Why, they are made humble by the imprint on their heartsFor they are merely the instruments of rhapsody.

An act of violence, no matter how small, can never be justified if it can be avoided.

All this waiting.Waiting for the rain to stop. Waiting in traffic. Waiting for the bill. Waiting at the airport for an old friend.Waiting to depart. Then, there’s the big waiting: waiting to grow up. Waiting for love. Waiting to show youryour parents that when you have kids you’ll be different. Waiting to retire. Waiting for death. Why do we think waitingis the antithesis of lifewhen it is almostall of it?

Break open your heart so that I may enter it.

Love is our most basic human value and also our highest potential.

You are my favourite part of life.

Whenever you keep score in love, you lose.

We start a relationship with someone not only because of how great they are but how great they make us feel. And because they have granted us this extraordinary gift—a chance to experience love, joy, compassion, and security —it is our exclusive privilege to make them feel wonderful about themselves, especially during days when they, themselves, don't feel so wonderful.

I see them and they see me but the lovers — we recognise one another: there is light in our eyes.

You need to keep hurting until you realise you never needed to hurt in the first place.

There is no revelation in my words. I am merely stating what others have forgotten to write down.

I've written you sixty-seven love poems.Here’s another one for you.But really, for me.These poems are the candles that I light with the fire you have ignited in me.I place this candle here and another thereso even if the stars have argued with the moonand are sulking away in a corner, you can still find your way to me.Sixty-eight poems now. What does the future hold for us?Joy? Disappointment? Gentle caresses? And subtle neglect?I hope the good is more than the bad. Much more. For what is the point of loveif by lighting these candlesour own flame loses its brightness?I know the good is more than the bad. Much more.I cannot wait to write you sixty-nine.

A poetess is not as selfishas you assume.After months of agonising over her marriage of words—the bride—and spaces—the groom,she knows that as soonas she has penned the poem,it’s yours to consume.So, without giving it a think,she blows on the inkand the letters fly awaylike dandelions on a windy day,landing on hands and lips, on hearts and hips.But more often than not,you can easily spotthem trodden and forgotten,becoming sodden and rotten.Yet, she will continue to makewhat’s others to takebecause selfishness is not the mark of a poetess.

We grow old judging othersAnd ourselvesUntil life humbles usAnd makes scared children of usLonging to hold another’s handTo hear their kind words And witness their kind deeds done on our behalf.But like children,We sabotage everythingFor nothing satisfies usUntil life crumbles usAnd we are no more.

Can we share my eyes so you can see what I see?Can we share my ears so you can hear what I hear?Can you perch on my shouldersso you can go where I go?Always in my heart, I don’t experience anything separate from you.This shared wonderment becomes doubled.This shared love becomes infinite.

By loving you, I learn everything because your soul contains the entire universe.

Do not go to my grave. Mary knows, I am not there. Look for me in between pages and on people’s lips.Do not go to my old school. Do not go to my old house —I am not in any of those places. Look for me in your hearts and greet me there.

Is it odd, my love, that I envy others who have not met you for the intoxication they have yet to experience? Is it odd that I wish to witness you with new eyes so I may have the pleasure of falling for you all over again? I am grateful, so grateful, for knowing the meaning of your various sighs. For being the cause of your ecstatic cries. But, if only for a moment, I wish to let you fall out of my hands so that I may catch you again. You, my love, are the oddity. You are my exception.

To live, to truly live, one must consider each and every thing a blessing.

When I'm with you,I feel exposed.Naked. When I'm naked with you, I feel clothed.Sheltered.

Of course, I am religious.I worship love.

I don’t know why we fight.It takes much too effort to stay mad at you.To dodge your skin in the hallwayand leave the kitchen without bringing you a treat.It takes much too effort to stare at the sinkso my eyes don’t smile at you in the mirror.It takes much too effort to look away as we undressand lie apart in the now bigger bed.It takes much too effort to stiffen my bodybecause sleepy limbs forget fightsand pride is always lost in dreams.It takes much too effort to awaken every hour to make sure we are islands with a gulf of white sheets separating us.I dread the light peeking through the parted curtainsand empathise with your groans —I didn’t get any sleep either.I really don’t know why we fight.It takes much too effort to stay mad at one anotherwhen it’s so easy for us to love.