Love Cannot Be Described. It Must Be

Let Yourself Be Drawn By The Stronger Pull Of That Which You Truly Love.

On The Path Of Love We Are Neither Masters Nor The Owners Of Our Lives. We Are Only A Brush In The Hand Of The Master Painter.

Iron Was Black And Sheenless, But Cleansing And Polishing Washed Away Its Blackness.

Oh God Let All Lovers Be Content Give Them Happy Endings Let Their Lives Be Celebrations Let Their Hearts Dance In The Fire Of Your Love

Speak With The Language Of Love.