Work Is Love Made Visible. And If

A Friend Who Is Far Away Is Sometimes Much Nearer Than One Who Is At Hand. Is Not The Mountain Far More Awe-inspiring And More Clearly Visible To One Passing Through The Valley Than To Those Who Inhabit The Mountain?

It Is Slavery To Live In The Mind Unless It Has Become Part Of The Body

Thinking Is Always The Stumbling Stone To Poetry.

Who Can Depart From His Pain And Aloneness Without Regret? Too Many Fragments Of The Spirit Have I Scattered In These Streets, And Too Many Are The Children Of My Longing That Walk Naked Among These Hills, And I Cannot Withdraw From Them Without A Burden And An Ache. It Is Not A Garment I Cast Off This Day, Bit A Skin That I Tear With My Own Hands... Yet I Cannot Tarry Longer.

You Often Say, "i Would Give, But Only To The Deserving." The Trees In Your Orchard Say Not So, Nor The Flocks In Your Pasture. They Give That They May Live, For To Withhold Is To Perish.