Hate Is A Dead Thing. Who Of

We Fear Death, Yet We Long For Slumber And Beautiful Dreams.

And As A Single Leaf Turns Not Yellow But With The Silent Knowledge Of The Whole Tree.

Cover Me With Soft Earth, And Let Each Handful Be Mixed With Seeds Ofjasmine, Lilies, And Myrtle; And When They Grow Above Me And Thrive On My Body's Element They Will Breathe The Fragrance Of My Heart Into Space.

I Am One Of Those Who Believe That Spiritual Progress Is A Rule Of Human Life, But The Approach To Perfection Is Slow And Painful. If A Woman Elevates Herself In One Respect And Is Retarded In Another, It Is Because The Rough Trail That Leads To The Mountain Peak Is Not Free Of Ambushes Of Thieves And Lairs Of Wolves.

And Then To Sleep With A Prayer For The Beloved In Your Heart And A Song Of Praise Upon Your Lips.