Life Is The Mistress To

The Soul Is An Embryo In The Body Of Man, And The Day Of Death Is The Day Of Awakening, For It Is The Great Era Of Labour And The Rich Hour Of Creation.

The Sorrowful Spirit Finds Relaxation In Solitude. It Abhors People, As A Wounded Deer Deserts The Herd And Lives In A Cave Until It Is Healed Or Dead.

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.

I Would Not Exchange The Sorrows Of My Heart For The Joys Of The Multitude. And I Would Not Have The Tears That Sadness Makes To Flow From My Every Part Turn Into Laughter. I Would That My Life Remain A Tear And A Smile.

Follow Your Heart. Your Heart Is The Right Guide In Everything Big. Mine Is So Limited. What You Want To Do Is Determined By That Divine Element That Is In Each Of Us.