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The miracle is not that we do this work, but that we are happy to do it.
Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.
Not all storms come to disrupt your life Some come to clear your path.
As the different streams having their sources in different places all mingle their water in the sea, so, O Lord, the different paths which men take through different tendencies, various though they appear, crooked or straight, all lead to Thee!
All that we are is the result of what we have thought. The mind is everything. What we think we become.
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.
The miracle is not that we do this work, but that we are happy to do it.
Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.
Not all storms come to disrupt your life Some come to clear your path.
As the different streams having their sources in different places all mingle their water in the sea, so, O Lord, the different paths which men take through different tendencies, various though they appear, crooked or straight, all lead to Thee!
All that we are is the result of what we have thought. The mind is everything. What we think we become.
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.