With His own hands did He paint thine eye and eyebrows—one cannot leave one’s bosom friends to strangers.
Omnipotent is He, nourishing the delicate with His many bounties.
Render thanks each moment from thy heart, for gratitude is not the work of the tongue alone.
O God, my heart is blood, mine eyes are sore when I behold Thy indescribable gifts.
Discourse concerning the Condition of the Weak
He knows not the value of a day of pleasure who has not seen adversity. Hard is the winter for the beggar—the rich man heeds it not. If thou art swift of foot, be thankful when thou lookest upon the lame.
What know they of the value of water who dwell upon the banks of the Jayhun? Ask it of them who are parched in the heat of the sun. What cares the Arab by the Tigris for the thirsty ones of the desert?
He knows the value of health who lost his strength in fever. How can the night be long to thee reclining in ease upon thy bed? Think of him who is racked with fever—the sick man knows the tediousness of the night.
At the sound of the drum the master awakens—what knows he how the watchman passed the night?