[continued from previous message]   
      
   >Be still and listen.   
      
   Why say such a thing? To whom are you speaking?   
   I'm still here. I'm still listening. To you. To what you say.   
   And how you say it.   
      
   >You may hear the wind between the stars, or the   
   >rain on the golden flower. Or cicadas in a grove of summer pines.   
      
   Sometimes I hear the grass sing. Flowers scream at me, in a good   
   purple or yellow or some other colour Way.   
      
   >The audible signature of approaching wisdom.   
      
   On its little cat feet.   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)