Far happier he, who, young and full of pride And radiant with the glory of the sun, Leaves earth before his singing time is done. All wounds of Time the graveyard flowers hide, His beauty lives, as fresh as when he died.

When I look at small things, I think I shall go on living: drops of rain, leather gloves shrunk by being wet... When I look at something too big, I want to die: the Diet Building, or a map of the world.

Do you shovel to survive, or survive to shovel?

Defeat begins with the fear that one has lost.

Without the threat of punishment, there is no joy in flight.

Time cannot be spurred on like a horse.

The thorn of death falls from heaven, and its myriad forms leave us no room to move.