In your light I learn how to love, 

In your beauty, how to make poems. 

You dance inside my chest,

Where no one sees you,

But sometimes I do,

And that sight becomes this art.

- Rumi

from 'A Thirsty Fish' by Rumi

I don't want learning, or dignity,
or respectability.

I want this music and this dawn
and the warmth of your cheek against mine.

The grief-armies assemble,
but I'm not going with them.

This is how it always is
when I finish a poem.

A great silence comes over me,
and I wonder why I ever thought
to use language.

(translated by Coleman Barks, from The Essential Rumi published by HarperCollins)

In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of the things not meant for you.

- Buddha