The Philosopher's Soul Dwells In His Head,

Remembrance Is A Form Of Meeting.

It Is Not A Garment I Cast Off This Day, But A Skin That I Tear With My Own Hands.

The Universe Is My Country And The Human Family Is My Tribe.

You Hate Jesus Because Someone From The North Country Said He Was The Son Of God. But You Hate One Another Because Each Of You Deems Himself Too Great To Be The Brother Of The Next Man.

In The Depths Of Your Hopes And Desires, Lies Your Silent Knowledge Of The Beyond, And Like Seeds Dreaming Beneath The Snow, Your Heart Dreams Of Spring. Trust The Dreams, For In Them Is Hidden The Gate To Eternity.