If It Were Not For Guests All

And That Which Sings And Contemplates In You Is Still Dwelling Within The Bounds Of That First Moment Which Scattered The Stars Into Space.

Mother: The Most Beautiful Word On The Lips Of Mankind.

Life Without Love Is Like A Tree Without Blossoms Or Fruit.

Like The Ocean Is Your God-self; It Remains For Ever Undefiled. And Like The Ether It Lifts But The Winged. Even Like The Sun Is Your God-self; It Knows Not The Ways Of The Mole Nor Seeks It The Holes Of The Serpent. But Your God-self Does Not Dwell Alone In Your Being. Much In You Is Still Man, And Much In You Is Not Yet Man, But A Shapeless Pigmy That Walks Asleep In The Mist Searching For Its Own Awakening.

If You Would Behold The Spirit Of Death, Open Your Heart Wide Unto The Body Of Life. For Life And Death Are One, Even As The River And Sea Are One.