Ah, If Only There Were Two Of Me, She Thought, One Who Spoke And The Other Who Listened, One Who Lived And One Who Watched, How I Would Love Myself! I Would Envy No One.
I've Always Loved Butterflies, Because They Remind Us That It's Never Too Late To Transform Ourselves.
Self-love Has Very Little To Do With How You Feel About Your Outer Self. It's About Accepting All Of Yourself.
Love Endows Us With A Sort Of Personal Religion; We Respect Another Live Within Ourselves.
The Wounds Of Self-love Turn Incurable When The Oxide Of Self-love Gets Into Them.
Long Tresses Down To The Floor Can Be Beautiful, But Learn To Love What You Have.
You Have Enemies. For Who Can Live On This Earth Without Them? Take Heed To Yourselves: Love Them. In No Way Can Your Enemy So Hurt You By His Violence, As You Hurt Yourself If You Love Him Not.
Then Let Yourself Love All That You Take Delight In Accept Yourself Whole, Accept The Heritage That Shaped You And Is Passed On From Age To Age Down To Your Entity. Remain Mysterious; Rather Than Be Pure, Accept Yourself As Numerous.
