Even in the worm that crawls in the earth there glows a divine spark. When you slaughter a creature, you slaughter God.

While the poet entertains he continues to search for eternal truths, for the essence of being. In his own fashion he tries to solve the riddle of time and change, to find an answer to suffering, to reveal love in the very abyss of cruelty and injustice. Strange as these words may sound I often play with the idea that when all the social theories collapse and wars and revolutions leave humanity in utter gloom, the poet--whom Plato banned from his Republic--may rise up to save us all.

There is no death. How can there be death if everything is part of the Godhead? The soul never dies and the body is never really alive.

One has to trust that God knows how to manage the world.

Various philosophers and religious leaders tried to convince their disciples and followers that animals are nothing more than machines without a soul, without feelings. However, anyone who has ever lived with an animal-be it a dog, a bird, or even a mouse-knows that this theory is a brazen lie, invented to justify cruelty.

The soul never dies and the body is never really alive.

No matter how much you know a human being, you don't know him enough.