You Shall Be Held Down By The

Death Most Resembles A Prophet Who Is Without Honor In His Own Land Or A Poet Who Is A Stranger Among His People.

My Friends: Music Is The Language Of Spirits. Its Melody Is Like The Frolicsome Breeze That Makes The Strings Quiver With Love. When The Gentle Fingers Of Music Knock At The Door Of Our Feelings, They Awaken Memories That Have Long Lain Hidden In The Depths Of The Past. The Sad Strains Of Music Bring Us Mournful Recollections; And Her Quiet Strains Bring Us Joyful Memories. The Sound Of Strings Makes Us Weep At The Departure Of A Dear One, Or Makes Us Smile At The Peace God Has Bestowed Upon Us.

Love, If It Finds You Worthy, Directs Your Course.

How Often Have You Sailed In My Dreams. And Now You Come In My Awakening, Which Is My Deeper Dream.

I Love You When You Bow In Your Mosque, Kneel In Your Temple, Pray In Your Church. For You And I Are Sons Of One Religion, And It Is The Spirit.