A Thief Is A Man In Need.

Our God, Who Art Our Winged Self, It Is Thy Will In Us That Willeth. It Is Thy Desire In Us That Desireth. It Is Thy Urge In Us That Would Turn Our Nights, Which Are Thine, Into Days Which Are Thine Also. We Cannot Ask Thee For Aught, For Thou Knowest Our Needs Before They Are Born In Us: Thou Art Our Need; And In Giving Us More Of Thyself Thou Givest Us All.

Much Of Your Pain Is Self-chosen.

For That Which Is Boundless In You Abides In The Mansion Of The Sky, Whose Door Is The Morning Mist, And Whose Windows Are The Songs And The Silences Of Night.

The Eye Of A Human Being Is A Microscope, Which Makes The World Seem Bigger Than It Really Is.

Beauty Is Eternity Gazing At Itself In A Mirror.