At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.

The burden of the self is lightened with I laugh at myself.

By unrighteousness man prospers, gains what appears desirable, conquer enemies, but perishes a the root.

The danger inherent in all force grows stronger when it is likely to gain success, for then it becomes temptation.

I'm lost in the middle of my birthday. I want my friends, their touch, with the earth's last love. I will take life's final offering, I will take the last human blessing.

God is neither manifest nor hidden; He is neither revealed nor unrevealed; there are no words to tell that which He is. He is without form, without quality, without decay.

Life is given to us, we earn it by giving it.