What is the exception? Is it found beneath the hardness of hearts or above the meaningful presence of a friend? Does exhaustion take the place of health or is it a lack of luxury that we are fearfully favoring in abandonment to our religion? What is our continual devotion anchored upon?

Once effective, the faces of the dedicated lose luster with the trampling of traditions. Once powerful, the falsely accused are unkindly hindered due to euphemistic medications. When will the subjective variations of common sense be put to rest? Is it possible that the irrational pretenses of our existence are only meant to be commended by the gatherer of fields, the bearer of shields? There is an underlying sense of terror that comes with relinquishing our hold to the shards of temporal knowledge, but what is said of those who approve of this fear? Do they not succumb to the teasing of their own anxiety? An inch subtly becomes a mile in the mind of the oppressed; and soon there is no floating boat upon the seas of what seemed to be a treasury of ambition. Knowledge and understanding can never be (shaken together, pressed down, or made up as) a weapon against our own minds. This is absurdity in its own essence.

Humankind was established for the purpose of love and its existence like blood in our veins. True, we find ourselves having heart murmurs and palpitations in this long walk of life, but let us not be found dead considering our own assessment. There is one doctor whose words never end in a negative report, whose love for his patient is patient and unmatched. This doctor's wisdom is of himself and impeccably thorough. His treatments are always specific and enjoyable. He does not take advantage of the simple but is delicate in his ways concerning them.