And is not the lute that soothes your spirit the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

Is not the beautiful moon, that inspires poets, the same moon which angers the silence of the sea with a terrible roar?

Remember, one just man causes the Devil greater affliction than a million blind believers.

How often have you sailed in my dreams. And now you come in my awakening, which is my deeper dream.

For the sight of the angry weather saddens my soul and the sight of the town, sitting like a bereaved mother beneath layers of ice, oppresses my heart.

The ageless melody, unheard, heals; the healing vision, unseen, leads; the true leaders, immortal, know...

Some of our children are our justifications and some are but our regrets