The winter is kind and leaves red berries on the boughs for hungry sparrows.
I'm not afraid of the opinions of others - but of being needed and coming up short.
Sunday evenings are heavier than clouds with rain, darker too and often interminable.
Summer softens lines that winter cruelly shows.
I'm a modern mountebank - I believe in Physiognomy - after all, we are in control of our face - it's the map of where we've been.
You can be angry and silent, but it's no use - there's no distance in the spirit - besides, my words touch you more softly than my hands.