Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

To belittle, you have to be little.

Thus with my lips have I denounced you, while my heart, bleeding within me, called you tender names. It was love lashed by its own self that spoke. It was pride half slain that fluttered in the dust. It was my hunger for your love that raged from the housetop, while my own love, kneeling in silence, prayed your forgiveness.

If you would behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and sea are one.

Your house is your larger body.

Tolerance is love sick with the sickness of haughtiness.

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