Love Provided Me With A Tongue And

Be Like A Flower And Turn Your Face To The Sun.

Much Of Your Pain Is Self-chosen. It Is The Bitter Potion By Which The Physician Within You Heals Your Sick Self. Therefore Trust The Physician, And Drink His Remedy In Silence And Tranquility: For His Hand, Though Heavy And Hard, Is Guided By The Tender Hand Of The Unseen, And The Cup He Brings, Though It Burn Your Lips, Has Been Fashioned Of The Clay Which The Potter Has Moistened With His Own Sacred Tears.

Those To Whom Worshiping Is A Window, To Open But Also To Shut, Have Not Yet Visited The House Of Their Souls Whose Windows Are Open From Dawn To Dawn.

I Wash My Hands Of Those Who Imagine Chattering To Be Knowledge, Silence To Be Ignorance, And Affection To Be Art.

To Love Life Through Our Labor Is To Be Intimate With Life's Inmost Secrets.