For Love Is Sufficient Unto Love.

Verily The Lust For Comfort Murders The Passion Of The Soul, And Then Walks Grinning In The Funeral.

Love Is Timeless.... Death Does Not Separate The Lover From The Beloved.

For Thought Is A Bird Of Space, That In A Cage Of Words May Indeed Unfold Its Wings But Cannot Fly.

And Is Not Time Even As Love Is, Undivided And Paceless?

This For God And This For Myself; This For My Soul, And This Other For My Body?