God and I have built an immense fire together. We keep each other happy and warm.
You have actually waltzed with tremendous style, my sweet, O my sweet, crushed angel.
Your separation from God is the hardest work you will ever do.
Think of suffering as being washed.
Laugh because that is the purest sound.
The small man builds cages for everyone he knows While the sage, who has to duck his head when the moon is low, Keeps dropping keys all night long For the beautiful rowdy prisoners.