I Am Bored With Gabbers And Their

Seven Times Have I Despised My Soul: The Sixth Time When She Despised The Ugliness Of A Face, And Knew Not That It Was One Of Her Own Masks.

Limited Love Asks For Possession Of The Beloved, But The Unlimited Asks Only For Itself.

Observe The Wonders As They Occur Around You. Don't Claim Them. Feel The Artistry Moving Through And Be Silent.

There Are Those Who Give And Know Not Pain In Giving, Nor Do They Seek Joy, Nor Give With Mindfulness Of Virtue; They Give As In Yonder Valley The Myrtle Breathes Its Fragrance Into Space.

My Friends: Music Is The Language Of Spirits. Its Melody Is Like The Frolicsome Breeze That Makes The Strings Quiver With Love. When The Gentle Fingers Of Music Knock At The Door Of Our Feelings, They Awaken Memories That Have Long Lain Hidden In The Depths Of The Past. The Sad Strains Of Music Bring Us Mournful Recollections; And Her Quiet Strains Bring Us Joyful Memories. The Sound Of Strings Makes Us Weep At The Departure Of A Dear One, Or Makes Us Smile At The Peace God Has Bestowed Upon Us.