He Who Listens To Truth

You May Give Them Your Love, But Not Your Thoughts. For They Have Their Own Thoughts.

But Memory Is An Autumn Leaf That Murmurs A While In The Wind And Then Is Heard No More.

Words Are Timeless. You Should Utter Them Or Write Them With A Knowledge Of Their Timelessness.

For What Is It To Die But To Stand Naked In The Wind And To Melt Into The Sun? And What Is It To Cease Breathing But To Free The Breath From Its Restless Tides, That It May Rise And Expand And Seek God Unencumbered? Only When You Drink From The River Of Silence Shall You Indeed Sing. And When You Have Reached The Mountaintop,then You Shall Begin To Climb. And When The Earth Shal Claim Your Limbs,then Shall You Truly Dance.

The Mute Grain Turns To Love Songs When Swallowed By The Nightingale.