Mother: The Most Beautiful Word On The

Those To Whom Worshiping Is A Window, To Open But Also To Shut, Have Not Yet Visited The House Of Their Souls Whose Windows Are Open From Dawn To Dawn.

Your Joy Is Your Sorrow Unmasked. And The Same Well From Which Your Laughter Rises Was Oftentimes Filled With Your Tears. And How Else Can It Be? The Deeper That Sorrow Carves Into Your Being, The More Joy You Can Contain. Is Not The Cup That Holds Your Wine The Very Cup That Was Burned In The Potter's Oven? And Is Not The Lute That Soothes Your Spirit, The Very Wood That Was Hollowed With Knives?

Hearts United In Pain And Sorrow Will Not Be Separated By Joy And Happiness. Bonds That Are Woven In Sadness Are Stronger Than The Ties Of Joy And Pleasure. Love That Is Washed By Tears Will Remain Eternally Pure And Faithful.

Is Not Dread Of Thirst When Your Well Is Full, The Thirst That Is Unquenchable?

Love Descends Upon Our Souls By The Will Of God And Not By The Demand Or The Plea Of The Individual.