Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet Yet is not a prophet, for he's much too busy, Repeats while he binds his tomatoes: No other end of the world will there be, No other end of the world will there be.
Czeslaw MiloszI was left behind with the immensity of existing things. A sponge, suffering because it cannot saturate itself; a river, suffering because reflections of clouds and trees are not clouds and trees.
Czeslaw MiloszThe child who dwells inside us trusts that there are wise men somewhere who know the truth.
Czeslaw Milosz