I Am Not Deep, But I Am

God Reveals Himself, Unfailingly, To The Solitary, Thoughtful Seeker

In Paris, When Certain People See You Ready To Set Your Foot In The Stirrup, Some Pull Your Coat-tails, Others Loosen The Buckle Of The Strap That You May Fall And Crack Your Skull; One Wrenches Off Your Horse's Shoes, Another Steals Your Whip, And The Least Treacherous Of Them All Is The Man Whom You See Coming To Fire His Pistol At You Point Blank.

Unintelligent Persons Are Like Weeds That Thrive In Good Ground; They Love To Be Amused In Proportion To The Degree In Which They Weary Themselves.

Genuine Sorrows Are Very Tranquil In Appearance In The Deep Bed They Have Dug For Themselves. But, Seeming To Slumber, They Corrode The Soul Like That Frightful Acid Which Penetrates Crystal.

When An Intelligent Man Reaches The Point Of Inviting Self-explanation And Offers Surrendering The Key To His Heart, He Is Assuredly Riding A Drunken Horse.