That which we die for lives as wholly as that which we live for dies.
There is no music unless the drum and the drummer are one.
Tomorrow is our permanent address.
For surely as each November has its April, mysteries only are significant; and one mystery-of-mysteries creates them all: nothing false and possible is love (who's imagined,therefore limitless) love's to giving as to keeping's give; as yes is to if,love is to yes
(existing's tricky:but to live's a gift)
The three saddest things are the ill wanting to be well, the poor wanting to be rich, and the constant traveler saying 'anywhere but here'.