What time is it? It is by every star a different time, and each most falsely true.
...sunlight is (life and day are)only loaned:whereas night is given(night and death and the rain are given;and given is how beautifully snow)
Nothing recedes like progress.
The artist is not a man who describes, but a man who feels.
The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches.
By the way, a gendarme assured me this is not a prison.