The Envier Praises Me Unknowingly.

The Strong Grows In Solitude Where The Weak Withers Away.

The Sorrowful Spirit Finds Relaxation In Solitude. It Abhors People, As A Wounded Deer Deserts The Herd And Lives In A Cave Until It Is Healed Or Dead.

They Consider Me To Have Sharp And Penetrating Vision Because I See Them Through The Mesh Of A Sieve.

When You Kill A Beast, Say To Him In Your Heart: ~by The Same Power That Slays You, I Too Am Slain, And I Too Shall Be Consumed. ~for The Law That Delivers You Into My Hand Shall Deliver Me Into A Mightier Hand. ~your Blood And My Blood Is Naught But The Sap That Feeds The Tree Of Heaven.

And All Knowledge Is Vain Save When There Is Work, And All Work Is Empty Save When There Is Love; And When You Work With Love You Bind Yourself To Yourself, And To One Another, And To God.