When The Goodwill Of Hearts Is With

People Want You To Be Happy. Don't Keep Serving Them Your Pain! If You Could Untie Your Wings And Free Your Soul Of Jealousy, You And Everyone Around You Would Fly Up Like Doves.

Silence Is The Language Of God, All Else Is Poor Translation.

When Inward Tenderness Finds The Secret Hurt, Pain Itself Will Crack The Rock And Ah! Let The Soul Emerge.

If My Head Holds One Thought Wise And Clear, It's You. Poor As I Am, What I Hold Dear Is You. No Matter How I See Myself, I'm Nothing ... Anything I Am Entirely Is You!

O Seeker, Pain And Suffering Make One Aware Of God.