I stepped from plank to plank So slow and cautiously; The stars about my head I felt, About my feet the sea. I knew not but the next Would be my final inch,— This gave me that precarious gait Some call experience.

Until you have loved, you cannot become yourself.

Nothing is the force that renovates the World.

I tasted life.

Opinion is a fitting thing but truth outlasts the sun - if then we cannot own them both, possess the oldest one.

The possible's slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.

I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.