i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses

Spring is like a perhaps hand

Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear. . .

wholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world my blood approves, and kisses are a far better fate than wisdom lady i swear by all flowers.

We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.

Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star.

The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches.