With Every Breath, I Plant The Seeds

Rise Up Nimbly And Go On Your Strange Journey!

Silence Is The Root Of Everything. If You Spiral Into Its Void A Hundred Voices Will Thunder Messages You Long To Hear.

Whatever Posessions And Objects Of Its Desires The Lower Self May Obtain, It Hangs On To Them, Refusing To Let Them Go Out Of Greed For More, Or Out Of Fear Of Poverty And Need.

One Of The Marvels Of The World: The Sight Of A Soul Sitting In Prison With The Key In Its Hand.

Lamps Are Different, But Light Is The Same.