I Am Not This Hair, I Am

Beauty Surrounds Us, But Usually We Need To Be Walking In A Garden To Know It. Rumi, Attributed, Conquest Of Abundance: A Tale Of Abstraction Versus The Richness Of Being Don't Grieve. Anything You Lose Comes Round In Another Form.

There's No One With Intelligence In This Town Except That Man Over There Playing With The Children, The One Riding The Stick Horse. He Has Keen, Fiery Insight And Vast Dignity Like The Night Sky, But He Conceals It In The Madness Of Child's Play.

My Soul Is Naked. It Wears The Transparent Garment Of Love.

Beg Of God The Removal Of Envy, That God May Deliver You From Externals, And Bestow Upon You An Inward Occupation, Which Will Absorb You So That Your Attention Is Not Drawn Away.

There's Hidden Sweetness In The Stomach's Emptiness.