Disagreement May Be The Shortest

Much Of Your Pain Is The Bitter Potion By Which The Physician Within You Heals Your Sick Self.

Trees Are Poems That The Earth Writes Upon The Sky.

The Very Strength That Protects The Heart From Injury Is The Strength That Prevents The Heart From Enlarging To Its Intended Greatness Within. The Song Of The Voice Is Sweet, But The Song Of The Heart Is The Pure Voice Of Heaven.

Death Changes Nothing But The Mask That Covers Our Faces.

Your Joy Is Your Sorrow Unmasked. And The Same Well From Which Your Laughter Rises Was Oftentimes Filled With Your Tears. And How Else Can It Be? The Deeper That Sorrow Carves Into Your Being, The More Joy You Can Contain. Is Not The Cup That Holds Your Wine The Very Cup That Was Burned In The Potter's Oven? And Is Not The Lute That Soothes Your Spirit, The Very Wood That Was Hollowed With Knives?