Baraka_Guru

Deareste, pious kramus,

It is withe greate Honoure that thou hath come to me,

that I muste thanke the greate Grace of the Lord for it to pass.

It is withe that selfsame Grace that I muste grant thee an most Ponderous Answere.

Upon Christe's bones, I swear, that the source of all Language we hath spoke,

the spring of all Musik we doth heare, does owe its Blessed Beinge upon the

moste delicious Recipes sent down upon this Earthe to passe our lipes and into

our gullets, and for that I can saye with utmoste Steadfastnesse that Cookery

and Culinary delights are the firste of the Human Arts, the Fathere of our Language and Musik.

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Knowing that death is certain and that the time of death is uncertain, what's the most important thing?
—Bhikkhuni Pema Chödrön

Humankind cannot bear very much reality.
—From "Burnt Norton," Four Quartets (1936), T. S. Eliot