If It Were Not For Guests All

Half Of What I Say Is Meaningless; But I Say It So That The Other Half May Reach You.

The Wolves Prey Upon The Lambs In The Darkness Of The Night, But The Blood Stains Remain Upon The Stones In The Valley Until The Dawn Comes, And The Sun Reveals The Crime To All.

Who Among You Does Not Feel That His Power To Love Is Boundless? And Yet Who Does Not Feel That Very Love, Though Boundless, Encompassed Within The Center Of His Being, And Moving Not From Love Thought To Love Thought, Nor From Love Deeds To Other Love Deeds?

You Are Good When You Walk To Your Goal Firmly And With Bold Steps. Yet You Are Not Evil When You Go Thither Limping. For Those Who Limp Go Not Backwards. But You Who Are Strong And Swift, See That You Do Not Limp Before The Lame, Deeming It Kindness.

Like The Ocean Is Your God-self; It Remains For Ever Undefiled. And Like The Ether It Lifts But The Winged. Even Like The Sun Is Your God-self; It Knows Not The Ways Of The Mole Nor Seeks It The Holes Of The Serpent. But Your God-self Does Not Dwell Alone In Your Being. Much In You Is Still Man, And Much In You Is Not Yet Man, But A Shapeless Pigmy That Walks Asleep In The Mist Searching For Its Own Awakening.