Our dreams are luminous, a cast fire upon the world. Morning arrives and that's it. Sunlight darkens the earth.

The ache for anything is a thick dust in the heart.

The music of memory has its own pitch,/which not everyone hears.

It may not be written in any book, but it is written - You can't go back, you can't repeat the unrepeatable.

We've all led raucous lives, some of them inside, some of them out. But only the poem you leave behind is what's important. Everyone knows this. The voyage into the interior is all that matters, Whatever your ride. Sometimes I can't sit still for all the asininities I read. Give me the hummingbird, who has to eat sixty times His own weight a day just to stay alive. Now that's a life on the edge.

If you want great tranquility/ It's hard work and a long walk

How many times can summer turn to fall in one life?