When God Threw Me, A Pebble, Into

Let There Be Spaces In Your Togetherness

A Voice Cannot Carry The Tongue And The Lips That Gave It Wings. Alone Must It Seek The Ether. And Alone And Without His Nest Shall The Eagle Fly Across The Sun.

Hate Is A Dead Thing. Who Of You Would Be A Tomb?

We Are The Sons Of Sorrow; We Are The Poets And The Prophets And The Musicians.

I Love You, My Brother, Whoever You Are - Whether You Worship In A Church, Kneel In Your Temple, Or Pray In Your Mosque. You And I Are Children Of One Faith, For The Diverse Paths Of Religion Are Fingers Of The Loving Hand Of The One Supreme Being, A Hand Extended To All, Offering Completeness Of Spirit To All, Eager To Receive All.