Just as in earthly life lovers long for the moment when they are able to breathe forth their love for each other, to let their souls blend in a soft whisper, so the mystic longs for the moment when in prayer he can, as it were, creep into God. ↗
I knew there were, in myself, the souls of millions of people who lived centuries ago; not just people but animals, plants, the elements, things, even, matter. All of these exist in me. ↗
I think that souls agree to come in and do what they're going to do and then leave when they're going to leave. So there's nothing tragic when a soul leaves. I think it was already preordained. ↗