Criticism Polishes My Mirror.

Through Love All That Is Bitter Will Be Sweet.

Happy Is The Moment We Sit Together, With Two Forms, With Two Faces, Yet One Soul. You And I.

Heart Is A Sea, Language Is The Shore. Whatever Is In A Sea Hits The Shore.

Little By Little, Wean Yourself. This Is The Gist Of What I Have To Say. From An Embryo Whose Nourishment Comes In The Blood, Move To An Infant Drinking Milk, To A Child On Solid Food, To A Searcher After Wisdom, To A Hunter Of Invisible Game.

Why Should I Be Unhappy? Each Parcel Of My Being Is In Full Bloom.