These are but dreaming men. Breathe, and they fade.

It snowed last year too: I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea.

My tears are like the quiet drift of petals from some magic rose; and all my grief flows from the rift of unremembered skies and snows. I think that if I touched the earth, it would crumble; it is so sad and beautiful, so tremulously like a dream.

I think, that if I touched the earth, It would crumble; It is so sad and beautiful, So tremulously like a dream.

Man’s wants remain unsatisfied till death. Then, when his soul is naked, is he one With the man in the wind, and the west moon, With the harmonious thunder of the sun

He who seeks rest finds boredom. He who seeks work finds rest.

Nothing grows in our garden, only washing. And babies.