If grief had smoke, as hath the blazing fire. The world would be for aye in darkness blind ; Travel the world from end to end entire, A wise man wholly happy thou'lt not find.' -Shahid of Balkh (p. 25, Early Persian Poetry)
No mirror to reflect Its loveliness, Nor comb to touch Its locks ; the morning breeze Ne'er stirred Its tresses ; no collyrium Lent lustre to Its eyes ; no rosy cheeks O'ershadowed by dark curls like hyacinth, Nor peach-like down were there. . . . To Itself it sang of love In wordless measure. By Itself it cast The die of love. . . . One gleam fell from It on the Universe […] (p. 14, The Persian Mystics)