Faith Is A Knowledge Within The Heart,

And Some Of Your Elders Remember Pleasures With Regret Like Wrongs Committed In Drunkenness. But Regret Is The Beclouding Of The Mind And Not Its Chastisement. They Should Remember Their Pleasures With Gratitude, As They Would The Harvest Of A Summer.

Rob A Neighbour With A Smile.

The Brooks Flow To Their Lover, The Sea, And The Flowers Smile At The Object Of Their Passion, The Light. The Mist Rolls Down To Its Beloved, The Valley. And I? In Me Is What Brooks Do Not Know, What Flowers Do Not Hear, What The Mist Does Not Apprehend. You See Me Alone In My Love, Solitary In My Yearning.

It Was In My Heart To Help A Little Because I Was Helped Much.

For Even As Love Crowns You So Shall He Crucify You. Even As He Is For Your Growth So Is He For Your Pruning. Even As He Ascends To Your Height And Caresses Your Tenderest Branches That Quiver In The Sun, So Shall He Descend To Your Roots And Shake Them In Their Clinging To The Earth.