Many Are The Places Of

Faith Is An Oasis In The Heart Which Will Never Be Reached By The Caravan Of Thinking.

Many Are The Fools Who Say That Jesus Stood In His Own Path And Opposed Himself; That He Knew Not His Own Mind, And In The Absence Of That Knowledge Confounded Himself.

Miserable Is The Man Who Loves A Woman And Takes Her For His Wife, Pouring At Her Feet The Sweat Of His Skin And The Blood Of His Body And The Life Of His Heart, And Placing Her In The Hands Of The Fruit Of His Toil And The Revenue Of His Diligence; For When He Slowly Wakes Up, He Finds That The Heart That He Endeavored To Buy Is Given Away Freely And In Sincerity To Another Man For The Enjoyment Of Its Hidden Secrets And Deepest Love.

And That Which Sings And Contemplates In You Is Still Dwelling Within The Bounds Of That First Moment Which Scattered The Stars Into Space.

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.