Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear. . .
Whatever's merely willful, and not miraculous (be never it so skilful) must wither fail and cease - but better than to grow beauty knows no.
-Before leaving my room i turn, and (stooping through the morning) kiss this pillow, dear where our heads lived and were.
Because you aren't afraid to kiss the dirt (and consequently dare to climb the sky)
since the thing perhaps is to eat flowers and not to be afraid
That which we die for lives as wholly as that which we live for dies.