Like sheaves of corn it gathers you unto itself. It threshes you to make you naked. It sifts you to free you from your husks. It grinds you to whiteness. It kneads you until you are pliant. And then it assigns you to its sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast. All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's Heart.

What is this world that is hastening me toward I know not what, viewing me with contempt?

If you sing of beauty though alone in the heart of the desert you will have an audience.

And your fragrance shall be my breath, And together we shall rejoice through all the seasons.

Generosity is not giving me that which I need more than you do, but it is giving me that which you need more than I do.

My Soul gave me good counsel, teaching me never to delight in praise or to be distressed by reproach. Before my Soul taught me, I doubted the value of my accomplishments until the passing days sent someone who would extol or disparage them. But now I know that trees blossom in the spring and give their fruits in the summer without any desire for accolades. And they scatter their leaves abroad in the fall and denude themselves in the winter without fear of reproof.

And what word is knowledge but a shadow of wordless knowledge?