The chill of what I won't feel gnaws at my present heart.

We are two abysses - a well staring at the sky.

My past is everything I failed to be.

Tomorrow I too – this feeling and thinking soul, the universe I am to myself – yes, tomorrow I too will be someone who no longer walks these streets, someone others will evoke with a vague: 'I wonder what's become of him?” And everything I do, everything I feel, everything I experience, will be just one less passer-by on the daily streets of some city or other.

After the rains departed the skies and settled on earth - clear skies; moist brilliant earth - greater clarity returned to life alone with the blue above and made the world below rejoice with the freshness of the recent rain. It left heaven in our souls and a freshness in our hearts.

My dreams are a stupid refuge, like an umbrella against a thunderbolt.

This world is for those who are born to conquer it, Not for those who dream that are able to conquer it, even if they're right.