He Who Passes Not His Days In

And Before My Soul Took Me To Task I Was Hard Of Hearing; I Heard Only Tumult And Uproar. But Now I Am All Ears Listening To The Silence And Its Choirs Singing The Hymns Of Time, Intoning The Praises Of The Firmament, Revealing The Secrets Of The Invisible.

Some Of Our Children Are Our Justifications And Some Are But Our Regrets

The Soul Is An Embryo In The Body Of Man, And The Day Of Death Is The Day Of Awakening, For It Is The Great Era Of Labour And The Rich Hour Of Creation.

I Purified My Lips With Sacred Fire That I Might Speak Of Love, But When I Opened My Mouth To Speak, I Found Myself Mute.

In Every Winter's Heart There Is A Quivering Spring, And Behind The Veil Of Each Night There Is A Shining Dawn.