The Confession Of One Man Humbles All.

You Do Not See The River Of Mourning Because It Lacks One Tear Of Your Own.

If Those Who Owe Us Nothing Gave Us Nothing, How Poor We Would Be.

He Who Has Made A Thousand Things And He Who Has Made None, Both Feel The Same Desire: To Make Something.

No One Is A Light Unto Himself, Not Even The Sun.

The Real "it Is Well" Is Something I Say From The Ground, Having Fallen.