Life Unfolds Itself In Mysteries Ways.

The Veil That Clouds Your Eyes Shall Be Lifted By The Hands That Wove It.

You May Give Them Your Love, But Not Your Thoughts. For They Have Their Own Thoughts.

Love Is The Veil Between Lover And Lover.

For The Sight Of The Angry Weather Saddens My Soul And The Sight Of The Town, Sitting Like A Bereaved Mother Beneath Layers Of Ice, Oppresses My Heart.

Happiness Is A Vine That Takes Root And Grows Within The Heart, Never Outside It.