Love Is Quivering Happiness.

Because The Soul Is Like A Flower That Folds Its Petals When Dark Comes, And Breathes Not Its Fragrance Into The Phantoms Of The Night.

My God, My Aim And My Fulfillment; I Am Thy Yesterday And Thou Are My Tomorrow. I Am They Root In The Earth And Thou Art My Flower In The Sky, And Together We Grow Before The Face Of The Sun.

Your Body Is The Harp Of Your Soul And It Is Yours To Bring Forth Sweet Music From It Or Confused Sounds.

The Deeper That Sorrow Carves Into Your Being, The More Joy You Can Contain.

There Are Those Who Give With Joy, And That Joy Is Their Reward. And There Are Those Who Give With Pain, And That Pain Is Their Baptism. And There Are Those Who Give And Know Not Pain In Giving, Nor Do They Seek Joy, Nor Give With Mindfulness Of Virtue; They Give As In Yonder Valley The Myrtle Breathes Its Fragrance Into Space. Through The Hands Of Such As These God Speaks, And From Behind Their Eyes He Smiles Upon The Earth.