Love Is Trembling Happiness.

For What Is Evil But Good Tortured By Its Own Hunger And Thirst?

Our God, Who Art Our Winged Self, It Is Thy Will In Us That Willeth. It Is Thy Desire In Us That Desireth. It Is Thy Urge In Us That Would Turn Our Nights, Which Are Thine, Into Days Which Are Thine Also. We Cannot Ask Thee For Aught, For Thou Knowest Our Needs Before They Are Born In Us: Thou Art Our Need; And In Giving Us More Of Thyself Thou Givest Us All.

You Are Good When You Strive To Give Of Yourself. Yet You Are Not Evil When You Seek Gain For Yourself. For When You Strive For Gain You Are But A Root That Clings To The Earth And Sucks At Her Breast. Surely The Fruit Cannot Say To The Root, 'be Like Me, Ripe And Full And Ever Giving Of Your Abundance.' For To The Fruit Giving Is A Need As Receiving Is A Need To The Root.

Thinking Is Always The Stumbling Stone To Poetry.

Said One Oyster To A Neighboring Oyster, "i Have A Very Great Pain Within Me. It Is Heavy And Round And I Am In Distress." And The Other Oyster Replied With Haughty Complacence, "praise Be To The Heavens And To The Sea, I Have No Pain Within Me. I Am Well And Whole Both Within And Without." At That Moment A Crab Was Passing By And Heard The Two Oysters, And He Said To The One Who Was Well And Whole Both Within And Without, "yes, You Are Well And Whole; But The Pain That Your Neighbor Bears Is A Pearl Of Exceeding Beauty."