Love, like a carefully loaded ship, crosses the gulf between the generations.
Cries of despair, misery, sobbing grief are a kind of wealth.
The one thing that matters is the effort. It continues, whereas the end to be attained is but an illusion of the climber, as he fares on and on from crest to crest; and once the goal is reached it has no meaning.
A man's age represents a fine cargo of experiences and memories.
I still fall for your everyday.
What he had yearned to embrace was not the flesh but a down spirit, a spark, the impalpable angel that inhabits the flesh.