He Who Sees The Infinite In All

For Everything Exists And Not One Sigh Nor Smile Nor Tear, One Hair Nor Particle Of Dust, Not One Can Pass Away.

Hold Infinity In The Palm Of Your Hand.

Joy And Woe Are Woven Fine, A Clothing For The Soul Divine. Under Every Grief And Pine Runs A Joy With Silken Twine.

Reason, Or The Ratio Of All We Have Already Known, Is Not The Same That It Shall Be When We Know More.

It Is An Easy Thing To Talk Of Patience To The Afflicted.