The Artist is no other than he who unlearns what he has learned, in order to know himself.
The whole truth... sings only - and all lovers are the song.
Really unreal world, will you perhaps do the breathing for me while I am away?
Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear. . .
...and down they forgot as up they grew.
Take the matter of being born. What does being born mean to most people?