We Are Not Permitted To Choose The

You Take The Pen, And The Lines Dance. You Take The Flute And The Notes Shimmer. You Take The Brush, And The Colors Sing. So All Things Have Meaning And Beauty In That Space Beyond Time Where You Are. How, Then, Can I Hold Back Anything From You?

The Longest Journey Is The Journey Inwards. Of Him Who Has Chosen His Destiny, Who Has Started Upon His Quest For The Source Of His Being.

If Only I May Grow: Firmer, Simpler, Quieter, Warmer.

Be Grateful As Your Deeds Become Less And Less Associated With Your Name, As Your Feet Ever More Lightly Tread The Earth.

Isn't The Fulfillment Of Our Duty Towards Our Neighbor An Expression Of Deepest Desire?