Would That I Could Be

Tears Have Cleansed My Eyes, And Errors Have Taught Me The Language Of The Hearts.

You Shall Not Dwell In Tombs Made By The Dead For The Living.

We Wanderers, Ever Seeking The Lonelier Way, Begin No Day Where We Have Ended Another Day; And No Sunrise Finds Us Where Sunset Left Us.

You Often Say, "i Would Give, But Only To The Deserving." The Trees In Your Orchard Say Not So, Nor The Flocks In Your Pasture. They Give That They May Live, For To Withhold Is To Perish.

What Of The Old Serpent Who Cannot Shed His Skin, And Calls All Others Naked And Shameless?