...unless The Exchange Be In

Friendship Is Always A Sweet Responsibility, Never An Opportunity.

Solitude Has Soft, Silky Hands, But With Strong Fingers It Grasps The Heart And Makes It Ache With Sorrow.

Much Of Your Pain Is Self-chosen.

In The Autumn I Gathered All My Sorrows And Buried Them In My Garden. And When April Returned And Spring Came To Wed The Earth, There Grew In My Garden Beautiful Flowers Unlike All Other Flowers. And My Neighbors Came To Behold Them, And They All Said To Me, "when Autumn Comes Again, At Seeding Time, Will You Not Give Us Of The Seeds Of These Flowers That We May Have Them In Our Gardens?"

Those To Whom Worshiping Is A Window, To Open But Also To Shut, Have Not Yet Visited The House Of Their Souls Whose Windows Are Open From Dawn To Dawn.