Be Like The Flower, Turn Your Faces

That Which Seems Most Feeble And Bewildered In You Is The Strongest And Most Determined. Is It Not Your Breath That Has Erected And Hardened The Structure Of Your Bones?

Pity The Nation Whose Statesman Is A Fox, Whose Philosopher Is A Juggler, And Whose Art Is The Art Of Patching And Mimicking. Pity The Nation That Welcomes Its New Ruler With Trumpetings, And Farewells Him With Hootings, Only To Welcome Another Ruler With Trumpetings Again. Pity The Nation Whose Sages Are Dumb With Years And Whose Strong Men Are Yet In The Cradle. Pity The Nation Divided Into Fragments, Each Fragment Deeming Itself A Nation.

For The Breath Of Life Is In The Sunlight And The Hand Of Life Is In The Wind.

The Bird Has An Honor That Man Does Not Have. Man Lives In The Traps Of His Abdicated Laws And Traditions; But The Birds Live According To The Natural Law Of God Who Causes The Earth To Turn Around The Sun.

I Am One Of Those Who Believe That Spiritual Progress Is A Rule Of Human Life, But The Approach To Perfection Is Slow And Painful. If A Woman Elevates Herself In One Respect And Is Retarded In Another, It Is Because The Rough Trail That Leads To The Mountain Peak Is Not Free Of Ambushes Of Thieves And Lairs Of Wolves.