For Life And Death Are One, Even

Love Passes By Us, Robed In Meekness; But We Flee From Her In Fear, Or Hide In The Darkness; Or Else Pursue Her, To Do Evil In Her Name.

An Eye For An Eye, And The Whole World Would Be Blind.

You May Give Them Your Love, But Not Your Thoughts. For They Have Their Own Thoughts.

The Lust For Comfort, That Stealthy Thing That Enters The House A Guest, And Then Becomes A Host, And Then A Master.

My Yearning Is My Cup, My Burning Thirst Is My Drink, And My Solitude Is My Intoxication; I Do Not And Shall Not Quench My Thirst. But In This Burning That Is Never Extinguished Is A Joy That Never Wanes.