The past was a dream wasn't it? And who ever remembers dreams?

The past was a dream wasn't it? And who ever remembers dreams?

Love, I thought, is stronger than death or the fear of death. Only by it, by love, life holds together and advances.

Ah, but in time the heat of noontide passes, and to it there succeed nightfall and dusk, with a return to the quiet fold where for the weary an the heavy-laden there waits sleep, sweet sleep.

Go forward while you can, but if your strength fails you, sit down near the road and gaze without anger or envy at those who pass by. They don't have far to go, either.

I walked in the meadows of green grieving for my life.

Whatever man prays for, he prays for a miracle. Every prayer reduces itself.