Quotes by Kamand Kojouri

O, weary angels, don’t look at me with those eyes.If that is your state then what of our cries?What can I tell you of goodness that you don’t already know?What can I tell you of faith,of hope and lovethat you yourselves bestow?O, angels, don’t pluck another feather,this isn’t the sky, it’s just the weather.Please, angels, try.We are one all together.Look up and listen, I’ll say it once and then put down my pen:We are sorry for our ignoranceand even though we are worldly,it might happen again.We are sorry for your wearinessand even though you aren’t worldly,we are no more than human.

Now is not the time for bigots and racists. No time for sexists and homophobes. Now, more than ever, is the time for ARTISTS. It’s time for us to rise above and to create. To show humanity. To spread hope. We must prevent society from destroying itself, from losing its way. Now is the time for love.

The only path wide enough for us all is love.

We live only for the hope of love.

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.

I am looking for the one I can’t fool.

The thing about love is that you will never run out of it. Its an ever-flowing river. So go ahead and LOVE. What are you saving all this love for — death?

Why wait to forgive and let go only after you have sufficiently wallowed in your despair? Why not forgive and let go now?

May we always be burdened with thinking of the suffering of others, for that is what it means to be human.

I became an artist because I wanted to be an active participant in the conversation about art.

I cannot imagine how much I must’ve suffered in my previous lives to be fortunate enough to have parents like you in this life.

She might not have read many books. But when she reads a book, she swallows the very words. If you open the books on her shelves, you will find that the front and back covers encase white pages.

To begin to know ourselves we must have sincere conversations with ourselves as if with a good friend. We must answer without reserve, listen without judgement, and accept without condition. That is self-love.

Why are we afraid of the silence that ensues after our death? Wasn’t it the same silence we endured before birth? Isn’t it the same silence we revel in when we are completely immersed in the present moment? Let us not be afraid.

If you write then you are reborn because by writing about the moment, you can relive it for a second time.

Close your eyes. Meditate on your love. This is God.

He knows all my thoughts. He knows all I’ve ever done and He loves me all the same. What is our purpose, you ask. It is to love like God.

Writing poems is simply an excuse to remember You.

One sip of this wine and you will go mad with drunkenness. You will drop your masks and tear your clothes — destroying everything that separates you from the Lover. Once you taste the fruit of this vine, you will be kicked out of the city of yourself. You will forget the world. You will forget yourself. I tell you: you will become a madman who wanders the streets looking for the Lover once you drink this Wine of Love.

Having drunk the dregs of Your Love, I am intoxicated beyond recognition. Now, I only pray for the nearness of You so I may advance in my annihilation.