Eternity is a glorious word, but eternity is ice.
The world is always open, Waiting to be discovered.
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem but that is impossible; the world has written its own.
If you are only what you are, You at least have a chance Not to outsmart, But be on a par with yourself And that is worth trying.
We grow from our dreams.
A word only writes its night and rides its dream.