...unless The Exchange Be In

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.

Inspiration Is In Seeing A Part Of The Whole With The Part Of The Whole In You.

You May Give Them Your Love, But Not Your Thoughts. For They Have Their Own Thoughts.

Out Of My Deeper Heart A Bird Rose And Flew Skywards. Higher And Higher Did It Rise, Yet Larger And Larger Did It Grow. At First It Was But Like A Swallow, Then A Lark, Then An Eagle, Then As Vast As A Spring Cloud, And Then It Filled The Starry Heavens. Out Of My Heart A Bird Flew Skywards. And It Waxed Larger As It Flew. Yet It Left Not My Heart.

Extreme Torture Is Mute, And So We Sat Silent, Petrified, Like Columns Of Marble Buried Under The Sand Of An Earthquake. Neither Wished To Listen To The Other Because Our Heart-threads Had Become Weak And Even Breathing Would Have Broken Them.