I had an inheritance from my father, It was the moon and the sun. And though I roam all over the world, The spending of it’s never done.

Anyone can be a fisherman in May.

I wish I had died before I ever loved anyone but her.

Please tell me what can I do. There must be something I can do

I learned never to empty the well of my writing, but always to stop when there was still something there in the deep part of the well, and let it refill at night from the springs that fed it.

The fun of talk is to explore, but much of it and all that is irresponsible should not be written. Once written you have to stand by it. You may have said it to see whether you believed it or not.

The world breaks everyone or nearly everyone, of their childish illusions, assumptions and wishes, often painfully and afterwards due to the personal growth in practical experience, insight and the resulting wisdom many are strong at the broken places just like mended broken bones often are, and some people even have the great insight to be grateful for the purifying fire.