Travelers, It Is Late. Life's

The Angel Is Free Because Of His Knowledge, The Beast Because Of His Ignorance. Between The Two Remains The Son Of Man To Struggle.

The Rose's Rarest Essence Lives In The Thorns.

God Picks Up The Reed-flute World And Blows. Each Note Is A Need Coming Through One Of Us, A Passion, A Longing Pain. Remember The Lips Where The Wind-breath Originated, And Let Your Note Be Clear. Don't Try To End It. Be Your Note.

The Middle Path Is The Way To Wisdom

Every Moment, The Sunlight Is Totally Empty And Totally Full.