Turning Toward What You Deeply Love Saves

The World Is A Mountain, In Which Your Words Are Echoed Back To You.

Stay In The Spiritual Fire. Let It Cook You.

Your Hand Opens And Closes And Opens And Closes. If It Were Always A Fist Or Always Stretched Open, You Would Be Paralyzed.

You Moan, "she Left Me." "he Left Me," Twenty More Will Come.

The Friend Who Knows A Lot More Than You Do Will Bring Difficulties, And Grief, And Sickness, As Medicine, As Happiness, As The Essence Of The Moment When You're Beaten When You Hear Checkmate, And Can Finally Say, I Trust You To Kill Me.