We do have choice, but not without some agony.

hen we mourn those who die young — those who have been robbed of time — we weep for lost joys. We weep for opportunities and pleasures we ourselves have never known. We feel sure that somehow that young body would have known the yearning delight for which we searched in vain all our lives.

My mother insured that a life of petty facts and dutiful farming was kept at bay by her passionate intensity, which nurtured the essential dreaminess of his nature

Memory is never pure. And recollection is always coloured by the life lived since

Time, for a man who has never truly felt a second of it, it not a great sacrifice

Poetry contains almost all you need to know about life.

We are here to add to the sum of human goodness. To prove the thing exists.