You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart
you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may
indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.
There are those among you who seek the talkative through
fear of being alone.
The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked
selves and they would escape.
And there are those who talk, and without knowledge or forethought
reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand.
And there are those who have the truth within them, but
they tell it not in words.
In the bosom of such as these the spirit dwells in
rhythmic silence.
When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the market
place, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your
tongue.
Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear.
For his soul will keep the truth of your heart as the taste
of the wine is remembered when the colour is forgotten and
the vessel is no more.
