How often have you sailed in my dreams. And now you come in my awakening, which is my deeper dream.
Love provided me with a tongue and tears.
Thinking is always the stumbling stone to poetry.
joy and sorrow are inseparable. . . together they come and when one sits alone with you . . remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Do not fear the thorns in your path, for they draw only corrupt blood.