History repeats itself but the special call of an art which has passed away is never reproduced. It is as utterly gone out of the world as the song of a destroyed wild bird.
A man is truly free even here in this embodied state if he knows that God is the true agent and he by himself is powerless to do anything.
Through selfless work love of God grows in the heart. Then through his grace...
The world is indeed a mixture of truth and make-believe. Discard the...
Travel in all the four quarters of the earth yet you will find nothing...
From your silken hair to your delicate feet you are perfection to me....
Until they put that sand and dirt in my face I will not sit in church all...
God has no religion.