suppose Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head.

Trust your heart if the seas catch fire, live by love though the stars walk backward.

there's time for laughing and there's time for crying— for hoping for despair for peace for longing —a time for growing and a time for dying: a night for silence and a day for singing but more than all(as all your more than eyes tell me)there is a time for timelessness

So far as I am concerned, poetry and every other art was, is, and forever will be strictly and distinctly a question of individuality.

The eyes of my eyes are opened.

Miracles are to come. With you I leave a remembrance of miracles: they are by somebody who can love and who shall be continually reborn, a human being.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)