when man determined to destroy himself he picked the was of shall and finding only why smashed it into because.

you said Is there anything which is dead or alive more beautiful than my body,to have in your fingers (trembling ever so little)? Looking into your eyes Nothing,i said,except the air of spring smelling of never and forever. ....and through the lattice which moved as if a hand is touched by a hand(which moved as though fingers touch a girl's breast, lightly) Do you believe in always,the wind said to the rain I am too busy with my flowers to believe,the rain answered

Love is the whole and more than all.

There is no music unless the drum and the drummer are one.

Well, write poetry, for God's sake, it's the only thing that matters.

I'm living so far beyond my income that we may almost be said to be living apart.

Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.