Our Pain Carves Out A Larger Space

If We Were To All Sit In A Circle And Confess Our Sins, We Would Laugh At Each Other For Lack Of Originality.

Music Is The Language Of The Spirit. It Opens The Secret Of Life Bringing Peace, Abolishing Strife.

Your Saying 'i Do Not Understand You' Is Praise Beyond My Worth, And An Insult You Do Not Deserve.

My Soul Gave Me Good Counsel, Teaching Me To Love What The People Abhor And To Show Good Will Toward The One They Hate. It Showed Me That Love Is A Property Not Of The Lover But Of The Beloved. Before My Soul Taught Me, Love Was For Me A Delicate Thread Stretched Between Two Adjacent Pegs, But Now It Has Been Transformed Into A Halo; Its First Is Its Last, And Its Last Is Its First. It Encompasses Every Being, Slowly Expanding To Embrace All That Ever Will Be.

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?