No Man Can Reveal To You Nothing

We Are The Sons Of Sorrow; We Are The Poets And The Prophets And The Musicians.

The Heart's Affections Are Divided Like The Branches Of The Cedar Tree; If The Tree Loses One Strong Branch; It Will Suffer But It Does Not Die; It Will Pour All Its Vitality Into The Next Branch So That It Will Grow And Fill The Empty Place.

If You Cannot But Weep When Your Soul Summons You To Prayer, She Should Spur You Again And Yet Again, Though Weeping, Until You Shall Come Laughing

Yesterday Is But Today's Memory, And Tomorrow Is Today's Dream.

And Your Fragrance Shall Be My Breath, And Together We Shall Rejoice Through All The Seasons.