Many Are The Places Of

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.

They Give That They May Live, For To Withhold Is To Perish.

A Voice Cannot Carry The Tongue And The Lips That Gave It Wings. Alone Must It Seek The Ether. And Alone And Without His Nest Shall The Eagle Fly Across The Sun.

The First Glance From The Eyes Of The Beloved Is Like The Spirit That Moved Upon The Face Of The Waters, Giving Birth To Heaven And Earth.

All Men Love You For Themselves. I Love You For Yourself.