They Give That They May Live, For

I Prefer To Be A Dreamer Among The Humblest, With Visions To Be Realized, Than Lord Among Those Without Dreams And Desires.

When You Work You Fulfill A Part Of Earth's Furthest Dream, Assigned To You When That Dream Was Born, And What Is It To Work With Love? It Is To Weave The Cloth With Threads Drawn From Your Heart, Even As If Your Beloved Were To Wear That Cloth. It Is To Build A House With Affection, Even As If Your Beloved Were To Dwell In That House. It Is To Sow Seeds With Tenderness And Reap The Harvest With Joy, Even As If Your Beloved Were To Eat The Fruit. It Is To Charge All Things You Fashion With A Breath Of Your Own Spirit. Work Is Love Made Visible

Some Who Are Too Scrupulous To Steal Your Possessions Nevertheless See No Wrong In Tampering With Your Thoughts.

Your Joy Is Your Sorrow Unmasked. And The Same Well From Which Your Laughter Rises Was Oftentimes Filled With Your Tears. And How Else Can It Be? The Deeper That Sorrow Carves Into Your Being, The More Joy You Can Contain. Is Not The Cup That Holds Your Wine The Very Cup That Was Burned In The Potter's Oven? And Is Not The Lute That Soothes Your Spirit, The Very Wood That Was Hollowed With Knives?

Of Life's Two Chief Prizes, Beauty And Truth, I Found The First In A Loving Heart And The Second In A Laborer's Hand.