Youth always tries to fill the void, an old man learns to live with it.

Very soon he will vanish completely in the wings of his own wordless stanza. [ ] but his stanza is not completely empty [ * ]

You shall be my roots and I will be your shade, though the sun burns my leaves. You shall quench my thirst and I will feed you fruit, though time takes my seed. And when I'm lost and can tell nothing of this earth you will give me hope. And my voice you will always hear. And my hand you will always have. For I will shelter you. And I will comfort you. And even when we are nothing left, not even in death, I will remember you.

Maturity, one discovers, has everything to do with the acceptance of ‘not knowing.

Her smile, I'm sure, burnt Rome to the ground.

...life's big. If you can't fix it, give it a spin.

Some people reflect light, some deflect it, you by some miracle, seem to collect it.