The Truly Just Is He Who Feels

Your Body Is The Harp Of The Soul.

All That Spirits Desire, Spirits Attain.

We Shall Never Understand One Another Until We Reduce The Language To Seven Words.

You Talk When You Cease To Be At Peace With Your Thoughts; And When You Can No Longer Dwell In The Solitude Of Your Heart You Live In Your Lips, And Sound Is A Diversion And A Pastime. And In Much Of Your Talking, Thinking Is Half Murdered.

Do Not Fear The Thorns In Your Path, For They Draw Only Corrupt Blood.