In the beginning said a Persian poet Allah took a rose a lily a dove a serpent a little honey a Dead Sea apple and a handful of clay. When he looked at the amalgram it was a woman.
My heart is a lonely hunter that hunts on a lonely hill.
The swift years slip and slide adown the steep; The slow years pass; neither will come again.
Go to the winter woods: listen there look watch and "the dead months" will give you a subtler secret than any you have yet found in the forest.
A handful of pine-seed will cover mountains with the green majesty of forests. I too will set my face to the wind and throw my handful of seed on high.
The desire of love Joy:The desire of life Peace:The desire of the soul Heaven:The desire of God ... a flame-white secret forever.
The gray silence the gray waves the gray wastes of the sea.