You Take The Pen, And

God Does Not Die On The Day When We Cease To Believe In A Personal Deity, But We Die On The Day When Our Lives Cease To Be Illumined By The Steady Radiance, Renewed Daily, Of A Wonder, The Source Of Which Is Beyond All Reason.

So Rests The Sky Against The Earth. The Dark Still Tarn In The Lap Of The Forest. As A Husband Embraces His Wife's Body In Faithful Tenderness, So The Bare Ground And Trees Are Embraced By The Still, High, Light Of The Morning. I Feel An Ache Of Longing To Share In This Embrace, To Be United And Absorbed. A Longing Like Carnal Desire, But Directed Towards Earth, Water, Sky, And Returned By The Whispers Of The Trees, The Fragrance Of The Soil, The Caresses Of The Wind, The Embrace Of Water And Light. Content? No, No, No - But Refreshed, Rested - While Waiting.

Never Measure The Height Of A Mountain Until You Have Reached The Top. Then You Will See How Low It Was.

Friendship Needs No Words - It Is Solitude Delivered From The Anguish Of Loneliness.

The Only Kind Of Dignity Which Is Genuine Is That Which Is Not Diminished By The Indifference Of Others.