| On Pain | |
| And a woman spoke, saying, "Tell us of Pain." | |
| And he said: | |
| 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. | |
| And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy; | |
| And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields. | |
| And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief. | |
| Much of your pain is self-chosen. | |
| It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. | |
| Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity: | |
| For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen, | |
| And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears. |