Contain all human faces in your own without any judgment of them
The world is a mirror, an imaging of Love's perfection.
At the end of my life, with just one breath left, if you come, I’ll sit up and sing.
O, happy the soul that saw its own faults.
Your name is upon my tongue your image is in my sight your memory is in my heart where can I send these words that I write ?
Pilgrimage to the place of the wise is to find escape from the flame of separateness.