Progress Lies Not In Enhancing What Is,

The Appearance Of Things Changes According To The Emotions; And Thus We See Magic And Beauty In Them, While The Magic And Beauty Are Really In Ourselves.

Man Is Like The Foam Of The Sea, That Floats Upon The Surface Of The Water. When The Wind Blows, It Vanishes, As If It Had Never Been. Thus Are Our Lives Blown Away By Death.

Am I A Harp That The Hand Of The Mighty May Touch Me, Or A Flute That His Breath May Pass Through Me? A Seeker Of Silences Am I, And What Treasure Have I Found In Silences That I May Dispense With Confidence?

The Truly Just Is He Who Feels Half Guilty Of Your Misdeeds.

You Pray In Your Distress And In Your Need; Would That You Might Also Pray In The Fullness Of Your Joy And In Your Days Of Abundance.