That Deed Which In Our Guilt We

Love Is The Only Flower That Grows And Blossoms Without The Aid Of The Seasons

Love That Is Cleansed By Tears Will Remain Eternally Pure And Beautiful.

I Wash My Hands Of Those Who Imagine Chattering To Be Knowledge, Silence To Be Ignorance, And Affection To Be Art.

Your Pain Is The Breaking Of The Shell That Encloses Your Understanding. Even As The Stone Of The Fruit Must Break, That Its Heart May Stand In The Sun, So Must You Know Pain.

Many Are The Places Of Worship, But Few Indeed Are Those Who Worship In Spirit And In Truth.