A Traveller I Am, And

Much Of Your Pain Is Self-chosen. It Is The Bitter Potion By Which The Physician Within You Heals Your Sick Self. Therefore Trust The Physician, And Drink His Remedy In Silence And Tranquility: For His Hand, Though Heavy And Hard, Is Guided By The Tender Hand Of The Unseen, And The Cup He Brings, Though It Burn Your Lips, Has Been Fashioned Of The Clay Which The Potter Has Moistened With His Own Sacred Tears.

I Would Not Exchange The Laughter Of My Heart For The Fortunes Of The Multitudes; Nor Would I Be Content With Converting My Tears, Invited By My Agonized Self, Into Calm. It Is My Fervent Hope That My Whole Life On This Earth Will Ever Be Tears And Laughter. Tears That Purify My Heart And Reveal To Me The Secret Of Life And Its Mystery, Laughter That Brings Me Closer To My Fellow Men; Tears With Which I Join The Broken-hearted, Laugher That Symbolizes Joy Over My Very Existence.

Virtue Tested: "have I Not Survived Hunger And Thirst, Suffering, And Mockery For The Sake Of The Truth Which Heaven Has Awakened In My Heart?

Much Of Your Pain Is Self-chosen.

Even As The Holy And The Righteous Cannot Rise Beyond The Highest Which Is In Each One Of You, So The Wicked And The Weak Cannot Fall Lower Than The Lowest Which Is In You Also.