There are lives that have bread in abundance and yet are starved;
with barns and warehouses filled, with shelves and larders laden they are empty and hungry.
No man need envy them; their feverish, restless whirl in the dust of publicity
is but the search for a satisfaction never to be found in things.
They are called rich in a world where no others are more truly, pitiably poor;
having all, they are yet lacking in all because they have neglected the things within.
The abundance of bread is the cause of many a mans deeper hunger.
Having known nothing of the discipline that develops lifes hidden sources of satisfaction,
nothing of the struggle in which deep calls unto deep and the true life finds itself,
he spends his days seeking to satisfy his soul with furniture,
with houses and lands, with yachts and merchandise, seeking to feed his heart on things,
a process of less promise and reason than feeding a snapping turtle on thoughts.
It takes many of us altogether too long to learn
that you cannot find satisfaction so long as you leave the soul out of your reckoning.
If the heart be empty the life cannot be filled.
The flow must cease at the faucet if the fountains go dry.
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