If You Wrote A Novel In South

Life Has Not Taught Me To Expect Nothing, But She Has Taught Me Not To Expect Success To Be The Inevitable Result Of My Endeavors. She Taught Me To Seek Sustenance From The Endeavor Itself, But To Leave The Result To God.

There Is A Man Sleeping In The Grass. And Over Him Is Gathering The Greatest Storm Of All His Days. Such Lightening And Thunder Will Come There Has Never Been Seen Before, Bringing Death And Destruction. People Hurry Home Past Him, To Places Safe From Danger. And Whether They Do Not See Him There In The Grass, Or Whether They Fear To Halt Even A Moment, But They Do Not Wake Him, They Let Him Be.

It Is Not "forgive And Forget" As If Nothing Wrong Had Ever Happened, But "forgive And Go Forward," Building On The Mistakes Of The Past And The Energy Generated By Reconciliation To Create A New Future.

When A Deep Injury Is Done Us, We Never Recover Until We Forgive.

There Is Not Much Talking Now. A Silence Falls Upon Them All. This Is No Time To Talk Of Hedges And Fields, Or The Beauties Of Any Country. Sadness And Fear And Hate, How They Well Up In The Heart And Mind, Whenever One Opens Pages Of These Messengers Of Doom. Cry For The Broken Tribe, For The Law And The Custom That Is Gone. Aye, And Cry Aloud For The Man Who Is Dead, For The Woman And Children Bereaved. Cry, The Beloved Country, These Things Are Not Yet At An End. The Sun Pours Down On The Earth, On The Lovely Land That Man Cannot Enjoy. He Knows Only The Fear Of His Heart.