Poverty Hides Itself In Thought Before It

The Envier Praises Me Unknowingly.

He Who Does Not See The Kingdom Of Heaven In This Life Will Never See It In The Coming Life.

Is Not The Cup That Holds Your Wine The Very Cup That Was Burned In The Potter’s Oven?

Is Not The Beautiful Moon, That Inspires Poets, The Same Moon Which Angers The Silence Of The Sea With A Terrible Roar?

You Often Say, "i Would Give, But Only To The Deserving." The Trees In Your Orchard Say Not So, Nor The Flocks In Your Pasture. They Give That They May Live, For To Withhold Is To Perish.