The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful.
Such was a poet and shall be and is -who'll solve the depths of horror to defend a sunbeam's architecture with his life: and carve immortal jungles of despair to hold a mountain's heartbeat in his hand.
When skies are hanged and oceans drowned, the single secret will still be man
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)
The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
A world of made is not a world of born