O sweet spontaneous earth

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

May my heart always be open to little birds, who are the secrets of living. Whatever they sing is better than to know. And if men should not hear them - then men are old.

The only man, woman, or child who wrote a simple declarative sentence with seven grammatical errors "is dead."

And still the mad magnificent herald Spring assembles beauty from forgetfulness with the wild trump of April:witchery of sound and odour drives the wingless thing man forth in the bright air.

Art is a mystery. A mystery is something immeasurable.

for whenever men are right they are not young