And Then To Sleep With A Prayer

Your Body Is The Harp Of Your Soul And It Is Yours To Bring Forth Sweet Music From It Or Confused Sounds.

But You Who Walk Facing The Sun, What Images Drawn On The Earth Can Hold You? You Who Travel With The Wind, What Weathervane Shall Direct Your Course? What Man's Law Shall Bind You If You Break Your Yoke But Upon No Man's Prison Door? What Laws Shall You Fear If You Dance But Stumble Against No Man's Iron Chains? And Who Is He That Shall Bring You To Judgment If You Tear Off Your Garment Yet Leave It In No Man's Path? People Of Orphalese, You Can Muffle The Drum, And You Can Loosen The Strings Of The Lyre, But Who Shall Command The Skylark Not To Sing?

The First Thought Of God Was An Angel. The First Word Of God Was A Man

They Give That They May Live, For To Withhold Is To Perish.

I Would Tell You More Of Him, But How Shall I? When Love Becomes Vast Love Becomes Wordless. And When Memory Is Overladen It Seeks The Silent Deep.