How Distant I Am From

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

Love That Is Cleansed By Tears Will Remain Eternally Pure And Beautiful.

Poetry, My Dear Friends, Is A Sacred Incarnation Of A Smile. Poetry Is A Sigh That Dries The Tears. Poetry Is A Spirit Who Dwells In The Soul, Whose Nourishment Is The Heart, Whose Wine Is Affection. Poetry That Comes Not In This Form Is A False Messiah.

From A Sensitive Woman's Heart Springs The Happiness Of Mankind, And From The Kindness Of Her Noble Spirit Comes Mankind's Affection.

Your Pain Is The Breaking Of The Shell That Encloses Your Understanding. 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.