But It Is Not For The Perfect

Love Is A Boaster At Heart, Who Cannot Hide The Stolen Horse Without Giving A Glimpse Of The Bridle.

Each Man In His Life Honors, And Imitates As Well As He Can, That God To Whose Choir He Belonged, While He Is Uncorrupted In His First Incarnation Here; And In The Fashion He Has Thus Learned, He Bears Himself To His Beloved As Well As To The Rest. So, Then, Each Chooses From Among The Beautiful A Love Conforming To His Kind, And Then, As If His Chosen Were His God, He Sets Him Up And Robes Him For Worship.

When We Serve The Great, They Are Our Destiny.

One Might Have Supposed That The True Act Of Love Was To Lie Together And Talk.

Death Was The Price Of Life.