Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts; And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime. And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
He who wears his morality but as his best garment were better naked. The wind and the sun will tear no holes in his skin.
Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon your reason and your judgment wage war against your passion and your appetite.
The most wonderful thing, Mary, is that you and I are always walking together, hand in hand, in a strangely beautiful world, unknown to other people. We both stretch one hand to receive from Life – and Life is generous indeed.
And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may livethrough its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.
And as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree.
Your friend is your needs answered. He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving. And he is your board and your fireside. For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.
I am forever walking upon these shores, Betwixt the sand and the foam, The high tide will erase my food prnts, And the wind will blow away the foam, But the sea and the shore will remain forver.
But memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs a while in the wind and then is heard no more.
And one of the elders of the city, said, speak to us of good and evil. And he answered : You are good in countless ways, and you are not evil when you are not good .
It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands.
For love is sufficient unto love.
For in truth it is life that gives unto life-while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness.
For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life’s procession that marches in majesty and proud submission towards the infinite.
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night.
What is fear of need but need itself?
Yesterday is but today’s memory, and tomorrow is today’s dream.
Nor shall derision prove powerful against those who listen to humanity or those who follow in the footsteps of divinity, for they shall live forever. Forever.