Only The Few Know The Sweetness Of

The Disease We All Have And That We Have To Fight Against All Our Lives Is ... The Disease Of Self.

Everyone In The World Is Christ And They Are All Crucified.

All Of The People Of My Time Were Bound With Chains. They Had Forgotten The Long Fields And The Standing Corn. They Had Forgotten The West Winds.

You Can Make It All Right If You Will Only Be Satisfied To Remain Small," I Told Myself. I Had To Keep Saying It Over And Over To Myself. "be Little. Don't Try To Be Big. Work Under The Guns. Be A Little Worm In The Fair Apple Of Life.

If Our Family Was Poor, Of What Did Our Poverty Consist? If Our Clothes Were Torn The Torn Places Only Let In The Sun And Wind. In The Winter We Had No Overcoats, But That Only Meant We Ran Rather Than Loitered.