All Can Hear, But Only The Sensitive

Faith Is A Knowledge Within The Heart, Beyond The Reach Of Proof.

Happiness Is A Myth We Seek, If Manifested Surely Irks; Like River Speeding To The Plain, On Its Arrival Slows And Murks. For Man Is Happy Only In His Aspiration To The Heights; When He Attains His Goal, He Cools And Longs For Other Distant Flights.

My Soul Gave Me Good Counsel, Teaching Me Never To Delight In Praise Or To Be Distressed By Reproach. Before My Soul Taught Me, I Doubted The Value Of My Accomplishments Until The Passing Days Sent Someone Who Would Extol Or Disparage Them. But Now I Know That Trees Blossom In The Spring And Give Their Fruits In The Summer Without Any Desire For Accolades. And They Scatter Their Leaves Abroad In The Fall And Denude Themselves In The Winter Without Fear Of Reproof.

Half Of What I Say Is Meaningless; But I Say It So That The Other Half May Reach You.

And You Would Accept The Seasons Of Your Heart Just As You Have Always Accepted That Seasons Pass Over Your Fields And You Would Watch With Serenity Through The Winters Of Your Grief.