I Do Not Want You To Hear

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.

Death Most Resembles A Prophet Who Is Without Honor In His Own Land Or A Poet Who Is A Stranger Among His People.

When You Are Sorrowful Look Again In Your Heart, And You Shall See That In Truth You Are Weeping For That Which Has Been Your Delight.

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. Surely He Who Is Worthy To Receive His Days And Nights Is Worthy Of All Else From You. And He Who Has Deserved To Drink From The Ocean Of Life Deserves To Fill His Cup From Your Little Stream. See First That Youyourself Deserve To Be A Giver , And An Insturument Of Giving. For In Truth It Is Life That Gives Unto Life-while You , Who Deem Yourself A Giver , Is But A Witness.

We Choose Our Joys And Sorrows Long Before We Experience Them.