You Are The Bows From Which Your

The Brooks Flow To Their Lover, The Sea, And The Flowers Smile At The Object Of Their Passion, The Light. The Mist Rolls Down To Its Beloved, The Valley. And I? In Me Is What Brooks Do Not Know, What Flowers Do Not Hear, What The Mist Does Not Apprehend. You See Me Alone In My Love, Solitary In My Yearning.

I Would Not Exchange The Laughter Of My Heart For The Fortunes Of The Multitudes.

Braving Obstacles And Hardships Is Braver Than Retreat To Tranquility.

Your Saying 'i Do Not Understand You' Is Praise Beyond My Worth, And An Insult You Do Not Deserve.

Your Friend Is Your Needs Answered.