And the selfsame well from which your laughter And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being,
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart
When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart,
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come,
Verily you are suspended like scales between
Only when you are empty are you
When the treasure-keeper lifts you
Even as the stone of the fruit must break,
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the
And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
And you would watch with serenity Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician
Therefore trust the physician, and drink
For his hand, though heavy and hard,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips,
I'm too tired.
Nobody really loves me.
I can't go on.
I can't figure things out.
I can't do it.
I'm not able.
It's not worth it.
I can't forgive myself.
I can't manage.
I'm afraid.
I'm always worried and frustrated.
I don't have enough faith.
I'm not smart enough.
I feel all alone.
loading a page or some of the graphics, click on Reload or Refresh. |