He Who Does Not Prefer

Like Sheaves Of Corn It Gathers You Unto Itself. It Threshes You To Make You Naked. It Sifts You To Free You From Your Husks. It Grinds You To Whiteness. It Kneads You Until You Are Pliant. And Then It Assigns You To Its Sacred Fire, That You May Become Sacred Bread For God's Sacred Feast. All These Things Shall Love Do Unto You That You May Know The Secrets Of Your Heart, And In That Knowledge Become A Fragment Of Life's Heart.

A Man's True Wealth Is The Good He Does In The World.

When You Work You Fulfill A Part Of Earth's Furthest Dream, Assigned To You When That Dream Was Born, And What Is It To Work With Love? It Is To Weave The Cloth With Threads Drawn From Your Heart, Even As If Your Beloved Were To Wear That Cloth. It Is To Build A House With Affection, Even As If Your Beloved Were To Dwell In That House. It Is To Sow Seeds With Tenderness And Reap The Harvest With Joy, Even As If Your Beloved Were To Eat The Fruit. It Is To Charge All Things You Fashion With A Breath Of Your Own Spirit. Work Is Love Made Visible

Seek Not The Depths Of Your Knowledge With Staff Or Sounding Line. For Self Is A Sea Boundless And Measureless.

Say Not, 'i Have Found The Truth,' But Rather, 'i Have Found A Truth.' Say Not, ' I Have Found The Path Of The Soul.' Say Rather, 'i Have Met The Soul Walking Upon My Path.' For The Soul Walks Upon All Paths. The Soul Walks Not Upon A Line, Neither Does It Grow Like A Reed. The Soul Unfolds Itself, Like A Lotus Of Countless Petals.