Sadness is but a wall between two gardens.

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potters oven?And is not the lute that soothes your spirits the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

He suffered much, but he understood the mystery of pain: he knew that tears make all things shine.

I want to write more but I cannot. I am a little weary and the silence in my soul is black. I wish I could rest my head on your shoulder.

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.