Let Me, O Let Me Bathe My

It Is Wrong To Think That Love Comes From Long Companionship And Persevering Courtship. Love Is The Offspring Of Spiritual Affinity And Unless That Affinity Is Created In A Moment, It Will Not Be Created For Years Or Even Generations.

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.

The Power To Love Is God's Greatest Gift To Man, For It Never Will Be Taken From The Blessed One Who Loves.

The Best Of Man Is He Who Blushes When You Praise Him And Remains Silent When You Defame Him.

And When One Of You Falls Down He Falls For Those Behind Him, A Caution Against The Stumbling Stone. Ay, And He Falls For Those Ahead Of Him, Who Though Faster And Surer Of Foot, Yet Removed Not The Stumbling Stone.