If You Would Tell Me The Heart

Men Resemble Great Deserted Palaces: The Owner Occupies Only A Few Rooms And Has Closed-off Wings Where He Never Ventures.

The Man Who Partakes In The Breaking Of The Bread Dares To Build His House On The Very Core Of Love. He Becomes, As It Were, Godlike, But Regardless Of The Strength He Derives From It, His Free Will Remains. We Are Always Free To Disown This Immense Grace, To Abuse It. The Greatest Love May Be Betrayed. Fed On The Living Bread, We Nevertheless Conceal A Part Of Ourselves Which Longs For Swine's Food.

A Cemetery Saddens Us Because It Is The Only Place Of The World In Which We Do Not Meet Our Dead Again.

The Scapegoat Has Always Had The Mysterious Power Of Unleashing Man's Ferocious Pleasure In Torturing, Corrupting, And Befouling.

Tell Me What You Read And I'll Tell You Who You Are Is True Enough, But I'd Know You Better If You Told Me What You Reread.