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.

Am I a harp that the hand of the mighty may touch me, or a flute that his breath may pass through me? A seeker of silences am I, and what treasure have I found in silences that I may dispense with confidence?

The mute grain turns to love songs when swallowed by the nightingale.

The voice of life in me cannot reach the ear of life in you; but let us talk that we may not feel lonely.

Often times I have hated in self-defense; if I were stronger I would not have used such a weapon.

How beautiful to find a heart that loves you, without asking you for anything, but to be okay.

Give me an ear and I will give you a Voice.