God disguised as myriad things, and playing a game of tag has kissed you and said, “You’re it. I mean you’re really it. Now it does not matter what you believe or feel. For something wonderful, something major-league wonderful, is someday going to happen.”
Listen; this world is the lunatic’s sphere , Don’t always agree it’s real, Even with my feet upon it And the postman knowing my door My address is somewhere else.
What do sad people have in common? It seems they have all built a shrine to the past and often go there and do a strange wail and worship. What is the beginning of Happiness? It is to stop being so religious like that.
I do not feel like writing verses; but as I light my perfume burner with myrrh and jasmine incense, they suddenly burgeon from my heart, like flowers in a garden.
Learn to recognize the counterfeit coins that may buy you just a moment of pleasure, But then drag you for days like a broken man behind a farting camel.
