In The Blackest Of Your Moments, Wait

God Does Not Look At Your Outer Forms, But At The Love Within Your Love.

The Work Of Magic Is This, That It Breathes And At Every Breath Transforms Realities.

God Writes Spiritual Mysteries On Our Heart, Where They Wait Silently For Discovery.

Why Should I Be Weary When Every Cell Of My Body Is Bursting With Life?

Whatever Posessions And Objects Of Its Desires The Lower Self May Obtain, It Hangs On To Them, Refusing To Let Them Go Out Of Greed For More, Or Out Of Fear Of Poverty And Need.