There Must Be Something Strangely

And That Which Sings And Contemplates In You Is Still Dwelling Within The Bounds Of That First Moment Which Scattered The Stars Into Space.

Joy And Sorrow Are Inseparable. . . Together They Come And When One Sits Alone With You . . Remember That The Other Is Asleep Upon Your Bed.

Much Of Your Pain Is Self-chosen.

Some Of Our Children Are Our Justifications And Some Are But Our Regrets

Death Changes Nothing But The Mask That Covers Our Faces.