We hear only our own voices, still echoes returning to our emptiness.
When the star dies, Its eye closes; tired of watching, It flies back to its first bright dream.
It is easy to see the glow but hard to recognize the awakening of silence.
Entering a cell, penetrating deep as a flying saucer to find a new galaxy would be an honorable task for a new scientist interested more in the inner state of the soul than in outer space.
Hope without love is hopeless.
For a game, you don’t need a teacher.