Trees Are Poems That The

And All Knowledge Is Vain Save When There Is Work, And All Work Is Empty Save When There Is Love; And When You Work With Love You Bind Yourself To Yourself, And To One Another, And To God.

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.

Life Is Not Only Merriment,it Is Desire And Determination.

You Often Say, "i Would Give, But Only To The Deserving." The Trees In Your Orchard Say Not So, Nor The Flocks In Your Pasture. They Give That They May Live, For To Withhold Is To Perish.

All Things In This Creation Exist Within You And All Things In You Exist In Creation; There Is No Border Between You And The Closest Things, And There Is No Distance Between You And The Farthest Things, And All Things, From The Lowest To The Loftiest, From The Smallest To The Greatest, Are Within You As Equal Things.