Doubting Charms Me Not Less Than Knowledge.

"the Love Of God, Unutterable And Perfect, Flows Into A Pure Soul The Way Light Rushes Into A Transparent Object. The More Love That It Finds, The More It Gives Itself: So That, As We Grow Clear And Open, The More Complete The Joy Of Heaven Is. And The More Souls Who Resonate Together, The Greater The Intensity Of Their Love, And, Mirror Like, Each Soul Reflects The Other.

The More Perfect A Thing Is, The More Susceptible To Good And Bad Treatment It Is.

Perceive Ye Not That We Are Worms, Designed To Form The Angelic Butterfly, That Goes To Judgment, Leaving All Defence Behind? Why Doth Your Mind Take Such Exalted Pose, Since Ye, Disabled, Are As Insects, Mean As Worm Which Never Transformation Knows?

Love, That All Gentle Hearts So Quickly Know.

They Had Their Faces Twisted Toward Their Haunches And Found It Necessary To Walk Backward, Because They Could Not See Ahead Of Them. ...and Since He Wanted So To See Ahead, He Looks Behind And Walks A Backward Path.