If we could wake each morning with no memory of living before we went to sleep, we might arrive at a faultless day.

Between our birth and death we may touch understanding, As a moth brushes a window with its wing

Who apart from ourselves, can see any difference between our victories and our defeats?

The skirts of the gods Drag in our mud. We feel the touch And take it to be a kiss.

Life itself is the real and most miraculous miracle of all. If one had never before seen a human hand and were suddenly presented for the first time with this strange and wonderful thing, what a miracle, what a magnificently shocking and inexplicable and mysterious thing it would be.

It's always our touches of vanity that manage to betray us.

The dark is light enough.