12th-century Poet Quotes

Francis of Assisi
Richard I of England
Nizami Ganjavi
Walther von der Vogelweide
Shams Tabrizi

People and nations could live in grace
but for two little words, "mine" and "yours".

Nothing kills the soul that commands to evil (Nafs al Ammarra) like seeing the beauty of the heart.

Shams Tabrizi
Shams Tabrizi
A loyal-hearted man rejoices at a friend's advancement; a disloyal man cries out in sorrow when something pleasant befalls his friend and he is there to see it.

For many call Thee Father, who
Will not own me as brother too.

Walther von der Vogelweide
Walther von der Vogelweide
This was no friendship, to forsake your friend, To promise your support and at the end Abandon him-this was sheer treachery. Friend follows friend to hell and blasphemy- When sorrow comes one's true friends are found; In times of joy ten thousand gather round.

Study always to have Joy, for it befits not the servant of God to show before his brother or another sadness or a troubled face.

Francis of Assisi
Francis of Assisi
Whatsoever Venus bids
Is a joy excelling,
Never in an evil heart
Did she make her dwelling.

In the book of life every page has two sides: we human beings fill the upper side with our plans, hopes and wishes, but providence writes on the other side, and what it ordains is seldom our goal.

Nizami Ganjavi
Nizami Ganjavi
We, however, place the love of God and His honour above our own and above the acquisition of many regions

Richard I of England
Richard I of England
The flow of the river is ceaseless and its water is never the same. The bubbles that float in the pools, now vanishing, now forming, are not of long duration: so in the world are man and his dwellings.... [People] die in the morning, they are born in the evening, like foam on the water.

I am Arnaut who love the wind,
And chase the hare with the ox,
And swim against the torrent.

Unnoticed, the passage has occurred; as I brood, autumn dusk dewdrops fall on my pillow. The voices of insects and the deer by the fence, as one, disturb me to tears this autumn dusk.

Get rid of words, and get rid of meaning, and still there is poetry.