How will my deeds echo in the halls of my existence? How will they move in the river of my heart? Will they be good or will they be not? Where does the hammer fall as justice is let forth? As the grass grows in the fields of the woods, so will my actions grow into the substance of my thinking. There is unity where it is never said to be. So will rain be virtue; it will cover the trees of my thoughts, then ever will they be, even if I wish them, or if I wish them not.