While gazing at myself from yourself, I was beautiful.

Infinity is the end. End without infinity is but a new beginning.

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

In every sound, the hidden silence sleeps.

Deliver thunder, God If you choose not to talk.

We forget old stories, but those stories remain the same.

Everything that looks too perfect is too perfect to be perfect.