The Life Of A Devotee Is A

As All The Perfumes Of The Vanished Dayrise From The Earth Still Moistened With The Dewso From My Chastened Soul Beneath Thy Rayold Love Is Born Anew.

There Is No Worse Sorrow Than Remembering Happiness In The Day Of Sorrow.

The Blood Of My Motherland Waters A Magic Plant That Cures All Ills. That Plant Is Art, And Sometimes Art Needs Corruption As A Kind Of Fertilizer

Repartee Is Altogether A Natural Endowment, And Is The Lightning Of The Mind.

Disgrace Is The Synonym Of Discovery.