Only After I've Seen The Visible Can

Three Kinds Of Souls, Three Prayers: 1) I Am A Bow In Your Hands, Lord. Draw Me, Lest I Rot. 2) Do Not Overdraw Me, Lord. I Shall Break. 3) Overdraw Me, Lord, And Who Cares If I Break.

How Could I, Who Loved Life So Intensely, Have Let Myself Be Entangled For So Long In That Balderdash Of Books And Paper Blackened With Ink!

Look, One Day I Had Gone To A Little Village. An Old Grandfather Of Ninety Was Busy Planting An Almond Tree. ‘what, Grandfather!’ I Exclaimed. ‘planting An Almond Tree?’ And He, Bent As He Was, Turned Around And Said: ‘my Son, I Carry On As If I Should Never Die.’ I Replied: ‘and I Carry On As If I Was Going To Die Any Minute.’ Which Of Us Was Right, Boss?

I Heard The Bells From The Future Churches, The Children Playing And Laughing In The Schoolyards [...] And Here Was An Almond Tree In Bloom Before Me: I Must Reach Out And Cut A Flowering Branch. For, By Believing Passionately In Something Which Still Does Not Exist, We Create It. The Nonexistent Is Whatever We Have Not Sufficiently Desired, Whatever We Have Not Irrigated With Our Blood To Such A Degree That It Becomes Strong Enough To Stride Across The Somber Threshold Of Nonexistence.

Yes, There Is Weeping, Even In Heaven, But It Is For Those Who Are Still Crawling On The Earth.