Verily The Kindness That Gazes Upon Itself

Give Your Hearts, But Not Into Each Other's Keeping, For Only The Hand Of God Can Contain Your Hearts.

And Is Not The Lute That Soothes Your Spirit The Very Wood That Was Hollowed With Knives?

Oh Heart, If One Should Say To You That The Soul Perishes Like The Body, Answer That The Flower Withers, But The Seed Remains.

A Poet Is A Bird Of Unearthly Excellence, Who Escapes From His Celestial Realm Arrives In This World Warbling. If We Do Not Cherish Him, He Spreads His Wings And Flies Back Into His Homeland.

That Which Seems Most Feeble And Bewildered In You Is The Strongest And Most Determined. Is It Not Your Breath That Has Erected And Hardened The Structure Of Your Bones?