If I Write What My Soul Thinks

Sick Or Well, Blind Or Seeing, Bond Or Free, We Are Here For A Purpose And However We Are Situated, We Please God Better With Useful Deeds Than With Many Prayers Or Pious Resignation. The Temple Or Church Is Empty Unless The Good Of Life Fills It . . . Holy If Only . . . We Offer The Only Sacrifices Ever Commanded-the Love That Is Stronger Than Hate And The Faith That Overcometh Doubt.

You Will Succeed If You Persevere; And You Will Find Joy In Overcoming Obstacles.

Blindness Separates People From Things; Deafness Separates People From People.

Smell Is A Potent Wizard That Transports You Across Thousands Of Miles And All The Years You Have Lived. The Odors Of Fruits Waft Me To My Southern Home, To My Childhood Frolics In The Peach Orchard. Other Odors, Instantaneous And Fleeting, Cause My Heart To Dilate Joyously Or Contract With Remembered Grief. Even As I Think Of Smells, My Nose Is Full Of Scents That Start Awake Sweet Memories Of Summers Gone And Ripening Fields Far Away.

I Have Found Life So Beautiful.