I Closed My Mouth And Spoke To

Flattery's Fire Is Hidden. Its Sweet Taste Is Apparent, But The Smoke Is Bound To Come Out At Last.

Intelligence Is The Shadow Of Objective Truth. How Can The Shadow Vie With Sunshine?

The Garden Of The World Has No Limits Except In Your Mind. Its Presence Is More Beautiful Than The Stars With More Clarity Than The Polished Mirror Of Your Heart.

In Your Beauty, How To Make Poems.

Where Lowland Is, That's Where Water Goes. All Medicine Wants Is Pain To Cure.