Like a child, the earth's going to sleep, or so the story goes. But I'm not tired, it says. And the mother says, You may not be tired but I'm tired
The master said you must write what you see / But what I see does not move me / The master answered Change what you see.
The soul is silent. If it speaks at all it speaks in dreams.
Intense love always leads to mourning.
The love of form is a love of endings.
Of two sisters one is always the watcher, one the dancer.