The Giving And Receiving Of Pleasure Is

Pity It Is We Drowse Too Soon Pity It Is We Fall Asleep Ere Our Song Encompass The Height Ere Our Hand Inherit The Deep

The Lust For Comfort, That Stealthy Thing That Enters The House A Guest, And Then Becomes A Host, And Then A Master.

Work Is Love Made Visible. And If You Cannot Work With Love But Only With Distaste, It Is Better That You Should Leave Your Work And Sit At The Gate Of The Temple And Take Alms Of Those Who Work With Joy.

Would That I Could Be The Peacemaker In Your Soul, That I Might Turn The Discord And The Rivalry Of Your Elements Into Oneness And Melody.

For That Which Is Boundless In You Abides In The Mansion Of The Sky, Whose Door Is The Morning Mist, And Whose Windows Are The Songs And The Silences Of Night.