And is not time even as love is, undivided and paceless? But if in you thought you must measure time into seasons, let each season encircle all the other seasons, And let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing.

The shepherd will deny the diseased lamb in fear of the flock.

Hearts united in pain and sorrow will not be separated by joy and happiness. Bonds that are woven in sadness are stronger than the ties of joy and pleasure. Love that is washed by tears will remain eternally pure and faithful.

Poetry, my dear friends, is a sacred incarnation of a smile. Poetry is a sigh that dries the tears. Poetry is a spirit who dwells in the soul, whose nourishment is the heart, whose wine is affection. Poetry that comes not in this form is a false messiah.

Wit is often a mask. If you tear it you will find either genius irritated or cleverness juggling.

If you reveal your secrets to the wind, you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees.

The sea that calls all things unto her cals me, and I must embark.