There's No Heart Like The Indian Heart.

The Truth Is That There Are No Good Men, Or Bad Men,' He Said. 'it Is The Deeds That Have Goodness Or Badness In Them. There Are Good Deeds, And Bad Deeds. Men Are Just Men - It Is What They Do, Or Refuse To Do, That Links Them To Good And Evil. The Truth Is That An Instant Of Real Love, In The Heart Of Anyone - The Noblest Man Alive Or The Most Wicked - Has The Whole Purpose And Process And Meaning Of Life Within The Lotus-folds Of Its Passion. The Truth Is That We Are All, Every One Of Us, Every Atom, Every Galaxy, And Every Particle Of Matter In The Universe, Moving Toward God.

I Still Love You. And Sometimes, My Friend, The Love That I Have, And Can't Give To You, Crushes The Breath From My Chest. Sometimes, Even Now, My Heart Is Drowning In A Sorrow That Has No Stars Without You, And No Laughter, And No Sleep.

I Went To War. .... I Survived, While Other Men Around Me Died. ... Men Whose Lives Were Crunched Up In Mistakes, And Thrown Away By The Wrong Second Of Someone Else's Hate, Or Love, Or Indifference.

I Know Now That When The Loving, Honest Moment Comes It Should Be Seized, And Spoken, Because It May Never Come Again. And Unvoiced, Unmoving, Unlived In The Things We Declare Form Heart To Heart, Those True And Real Feelings Wither And Crumble In The Remembering Hand That Tries Too Late To Reach For Them.

Sooner Or Later, Fate Puts Us Together With All The People, One By One, Who Show Us What We Could, And Shouldn’t, Let Ourselves Become. Sooner Or Later We Meet The Drunkard, The Waster, The Betrayer, The Ruthless Mind, And The Hate-filled Heart. But Fate Loads The Dice, Of Course, Because We Usually Find Ourselves Loving Or Pitying Almost All Of Those People. And It’s Impossible To Despise Someone You Honestly Pity, And To Shun Someone You Truly Love.