As Long As In Love There Is

The Lover's Pleasure Is In The Pleasure Of The Beloved. The Lover Is Satisfied When The Beloved Is Fed. The Lover Is Vain When The Beloved Is Adorned.

Love Is The Divine Mother's Arms; When Those Arms Are Spread, Every Soul Falls Into Them.

Each Individual Composes The Music Of His Own Life. If He Injures Another, He Brings Disharmony. When His Sphere Is Disturbed, He Is Disturbed Himself, And There Is A Discord In The Melody Of His Life. If He Can Quicken The Feeling Of Another To Joy Or To Gratitude, By That Much He Adds To His Own Life; He Becomes Himself By That Much More Alive. Whether Conscious Of It Or Not, His Thought Is Affected For The Better By The Joy Or Gratitude Of Another, And His Power And Vitality Increase Thereby, And The Music Of His Life Grows More In Harmony.

If You Will Not Rise Above The Things Of This World, They Will Rise Above You.

Reason Is The Illusion Of Reality