If you count on books to quench your thirst for truthYou will be always panting after somethingThat is just beyond your reach.And the books will pile high.And you will grow oldAnd dieAs you turn the leafOf yet another volume.And it’s because the thing you seek is hiding.And only an unseen handCan turn the key, Unlock the mystery,Open the door to the thing you seek.And once it does, you’ll finally stop seeking it Where it cannot be found. And it will well up inside of youA fountain of living water. And you will no longer thirst,No longer think that it is just around the next cornerOr behind the next page as the case may be.

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