Whatever Pearl You Seek, Look For The

True Beauty Is A Ray That Springs From The Sacred Depths Of The Soul.

God Picks Up The Reed-flute World And Blows. Each Note Is A Need Coming Through One Of Us, A Passion, A Longing Pain. Remember The Lips Where The Wind-breath Originated, And Let Your Note Be Clear. Don't Try To End It. Be Your Note.

Love Possesses Seven Hundred Wings, And Each One Extends From The Highest Heaven To The Lowest Earth.

Be Suspicious Of What You Want.

You Think The Shadow Is The Substance.