Poetry Is Devil's Wine.

He Was Created Of A Mother Whom He Created. He Was Carried By Hands That He Formed. He Cried In The Manger In Wordless Infancy. He, The Word, Without Whom All Human Eloquence Is Mute.

Your Persistent Longing Is Your Persistent Voice. But When Love Grows Cold, The Heart Grows Silent. Burning Love Is The Outcry Of The Heart! If You Are Filled With Longing All The Time, You Will Keep Crying Out, And If Your Love Perseveres, Your Cry Will Be Heard Without Fail.

The True Religion Has Always Been One From The Beginning, And Will Always Be The Same.

He Who Created Us Without Our Help Will Not Save Us Without Our Consent.

It Is Not The Punishment But The Cause That Makes The Martyr.