Worse Than Being Blind Would Be To

We The Living, Should Not Think Of The Dead As Lonely Because If They Could Speak To Us, They Would Say: "do Not Weep For Me, Earth Was Not My True Country, I Was An Alien There: I Am At Home Where Everyone Comes."

I, Who Cannot See, Find Hundreds Of Things To Interest Me Through Mere Touch. I Feel The Delicate Symmetry Of A Leaf. I Pass My Hands Lovingly About The Smooth Skin Of A Silver Birch, Or The Rough Shaggy Bark Of A Pine.

Silver Is Purified In Fire And So Are We. It Is In The Most Trying Times That Our Real Character Is Shaped And Revealed.

Touch Each Object As If Tomorrow You Would Never Be Able To Feel Anything Again.

Not The Senses I Have But What I Do With Them Is My Kingdom.