Hatred stirs old quarrels, but love overlooks insults.

In this innermost space of the heart, ever pure and appeased, reposes the knower, alone, free from knowledge and known. P. 50 Lillian Silburn

O God who made me to trudge along the road always,
to carry heavy loads always,
And be beaten always.
Give me great courage and gentleness.
One day let someone understand me –
That I may no longer want to weep
Because I can never say what I mean
And they make fun of me.
Let me find a juicy thistle –
And make them give me time to pick it.
And Lord, one day let me find again
My little brother of the Christmas crib.
Prayers from the Ark
Carmen Berros de Gasztold

Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.