When You Are Sorrowful Look Again In

For The Breath Of Life Is In The Sunlight And The Hand Of Life Is In The Wind.

Often Times I Have Hated In Self-defense; If I Were Stronger I Would Not Have Used Such A Weapon.

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

Much Of Your Pain Is Self-chosen. It Is The Bitter Potion By Which The Physician Within You Heals Your Sick Self. Therefore Trust The Physician, And Drink His Remedy In Silence And Tranquility: For His Hand, Though Heavy And Hard, Is Guided By The Tender Hand Of The Unseen, And The Cup He Brings, Though It Burn Your Lips, Has Been Fashioned Of The Clay Which The Potter Has Moistened With His Own Sacred Tears.

Who Can Depart From His Pain And Aloneness Without Regret? Too Many Fragments Of The Spirit Have I Scattered In These Streets, And Too Many Are The Children Of My Longing That Walk Naked Among These Hills, And I Cannot Withdraw From Them Without A Burden And An Ache. It Is Not A Garment I Cast Off This Day, Bit A Skin That I Tear With My Own Hands... Yet I Cannot Tarry Longer.