I wanted to write the most beautiful poem but that is impossible; the world has written its own.

Oblivion cures the old wounds.

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.

Nothing is part of everything.

There are no winners in real games.

It is not possible to express the most precious insights, To see all that craves to be seen, To visit even the closest neighbors in the universe, To learn all that needs to be learned, To live without dying, And I am sad about it. But I lived And I am happy about that.

A breeze, a forgotten summer, a smile, all can fit into a storefront window.