When Your Hands Leap Towards Mine, Love,

So The Freshness Lives On In A Lemon, In The Sweet-smelling House Of The Rind, The Proportions, Arcane And Acerb.

Without Doubt I Praise The Wild Excellence.

For Now I Ask No More Than The Justice Of Eating.

He Who Does Not Travel, Who Does Not Read, Who Does Not Listen To Music, Who Does Not Find Grace In Himself, She Who Does Not Find Grace In Herself, Dies Slowly.

All Paths Lead To The Same Goal: To Convey To Others What We Are.