The Tree Is But A Huge Boquet.

There Is Not A Heart But Has Its Moments Of Longing, Yearning For Something Better; Nobler; Holier Than It Knows Now.

When A Man Can Look Upon The Simple Wild-rose, And Feel No Pleasure, His Taste Has Been Corrupted.

He Will See Most Without Who Has The Best Eyes Within; And He Who Only Sees With His Bodily Organs Sees But The Surface.

Go On Your Knees Before God. Bring All Your Idols; Bring Self-will, And Pride, And Every Evil Lust Before Him, And Give Them Up. Devote Yourself, Heart And Soul, To His Will; And See If You Do Not "know Of The Doctrine.

Life Is A Plant That Grows Out Of Death.