When A Person Opens A Book, He

The Nearer I Approach The End, The Plainer I Hear Around Me The Immortal Symphonies Of The Worlds Which Invite Me. It Is Marvelous, Yet Simple.

So Your Desire Is To Do Nothing? Well, You Shall Not Have A Week, A Day, An Hour, Free From Oppression. You Shall Not Be Able To Lift Anything Without Agony. Every Passing Minute Will Make Your Muscles Crack. What Is Feather To Others Will Be A Rock To You. The Simplest Things Will Become Difficult. Life Will Become Monstrous About You. To Come, To Go, To Breathe, Will Be So Many Terrible Tasks For You. Your Lungs Will Feel Like A Hundred-pound Weight.

Poetry Contains Philosophy As The Soul Contains Reason.

It Is God Who Makes Woman Beautiful, It Is The Devil Who Makes Her Pretty.

Sorrow Is A Fruit. God Does Not Make It Grow On Limbs Too Weak To Bear It.