I am a son of David and Jeanine O’Toole. I am a son of Earth. And you, you bug-eyed bastards, cannot have my mind.

Does any one suppose that private prayer is necessarily candid—necessarily goes to the roots of action? Private prayer is inaudible speech, and speech is representative: who can represent himself just as he is, even in his own reflections?

You in my imagination  
are so strong 

As if you are right next to me.

I want to hold your hand forever. Please don't disappear...

I wish to continue the travel that last forever as the eternal love.

Religion really means to rejoin that which seems to be separate.

Written By Charlotte Joko Beck

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