All Our Words Are But Crumbs That

God Has Made Many Doors Opening Into Truth Which He Opens To All Who Knock Upon Them With Hands Of Faith.

The Sorrowful Spirit Finds Relaxation In Solitude. It Abhors People, As A Wounded Deer Deserts The Herd And Lives In A Cave Until It Is Healed Or Dead.

Hallow The Body As A Temple To Comeliness And Sanctify The Heart As A Sacrifice To Love; Love Recompenses The Adorers.

Every Beauty And Greatness In This World Is Created By A Single Thought Or Emotion Inside A Man. Every Thing We See Today, Made By Past Generations, Was, Before Its Appearance, A Thought In The Mind Of A Man Or An Impulse In The Heart Of A Woman.

Only Once Have I Been Made Mute. It Was When A Man Asked Me, 'who Are You?'