Silence Too Can Be Indiscreet.

A Thought Falls Like A Ripe Fruit From The Tree Of Idleness.

Tea - That Perfume That One Drinks, That Connecting Hyphen.

We Know All Their Gods; They Ignore Ours. What They Call Our Sins Are Our Gods, And What They Call Their Gods, We Name Otherwise.

Might I Be The One I Am Looking For?

... Anything Difficult To Say Must Be Shouted From The Rooftops.