These Dwell Among The Blackest Souls,loaded Down

O Mortal Men, Be Wary Of How Ye Judge.

"the Love Of God, Unutterable And Perfect, Flows Into A Pure Soul The Way Light Rushes Into A Transparent Object. The More Love That It Finds, The More It Gives Itself: So That, As We Grow Clear And Open, The More Complete The Joy Of Heaven Is. And The More Souls Who Resonate Together, The Greater The Intensity Of Their Love, And, Mirror Like, Each Soul Reflects The Other.

Seldom Indeed Does Human Virtue Rise From Trunk To Branch.

The Man Who Lies Asleep Will Never Waken Fame, And His Desire And All His Life Drift Past Him Like A Dream, And The Traces Of His Memory Fade From Time Like Smoke In Air, Or Ripples On A Stream.

I Care Not Where My Body May Take Me As Long As My Soul Is Embarked On A Meaningful Journey.