So I Be Written In The Book

And That Inverted Bowl They Call The Sky, Whereunder Crawling Cooped We Live And Die, Lift Not Your Hands To It For Help-for It As Impotently Moves As You Or I

We Are Thinking About Bad Only Those Who Are Worse Than We Are, And Those Who Are Better Than Us ... I'm Just Not Up To Us ... One Does Not Follow It Than Smell Roses. Another Of The Bitter Herbs Will Produce Honey. Give Bread To One - Will Remember Forever. Another Life Donation - Do Not Understand.

Thy Return Is As Another Sun To Heaven; A New Rose Blooming In The Garden Of The Soul.

I Can’t Reveal The Mystery To Either Saint Or Sinner; I Can’t State At Length What I’ve Said Curtly; I Achieve An Altered State That I Can’t Explain; I Have A Secret That I Cannot Share.

He Who Has One Enemy Shall Meet Him Everywhere.