Where There Is Ruin, There Is Hope

In Winter The Bare Boughs That Seem To Sleep Work Covertly, Preparing For Their Spring.

Through Love All That Is Bitter Will Be Sweet, Through Love All That Is Copper Will Be Gold, Through Love All Dregs Will Become Wine, Through Love All Pain Will Turn To Medicine.

You Believe God Is Not There, But He Is, Hidden In The Secret Of The Divine Mystery

God Calls Himself "baseer" [observant], So That The Knowledge That He Is Watching You May Keep You From Sinning.

Wings Of Love Long Only To Fly Away From All Directions.