The Book Of Job Is Pure Arab

The Love Of A Mother Is The Veil Of A Softer Light Between The Heart And The Heavenly Father.

And In Life's Noisiest Hour, There Whispers Still The Ceaseless Love Of Thee, The Heart's Self-solace And Soliloquy. You Mould My Hopes, You Fashion Me Within.

In Xanadu Did Kubla Khan A Stately Pleasure-dome Decree: Where Alph, The Sacred River, Ran Through Caverns Measureless To Man Down To A Sunless Sea.

And In Today Already Walks Tomorrow.

In Shakespeare One Sentence Begets The Next Naturally; The Meaning Is All Inwoven. He Goes On Kindling Like A Meteor Through The Dark Atmosphere.