Desire Is Half Of Life, Indifference Is

You Would Measure Time The Measureless And The Immeasurable. You Would Adjust Your Conduct And Even Direct The Course Of Your Spirit According To Hours And Seasons. Of Time You Would Make A Stream Upon Whose Bank You Would Sit And Watch Its Flowing.

When God Threw Me, A Pebble, Into This Wondrous Lake, I Disturbed Its Surface With Countless Circles. But When I Reached The Depths, I Became Very Still.

Your Joy Is Your Sorrow Unmasked. And The Same Well From Which Your Laughter Rises Was Oftentimes Filled With Your Tears. And How Else Can It Be? The Deeper That Sorrow Carves Into Your Being, The More Joy You Can Contain. Is Not The Cup That Holds Your Wine The Very Cup That Was Burned In The Potter's Oven? And Is Not The Lute That Soothes Your Spirit, The Very Wood That Was Hollowed With Knives?

Love And Doubt Have Never Been On Speaking Terms.

No Man Can Reveal To You Nothing But That Which Already Lies Half-asleep In The Dawning Of Your Knowledge.