I thought of my father's wisdom, as though it were buried in a box under a tree. As in the old song - a gold box with a silver pin. Some day I should be grown up, and I should dig up the box and turn the pin.
Art is the god you have not seen.
Armed with madness, I go on a long voyage.
I blessed the power which has filled my life with poetry.
Frog or pearl, life hid something at the bottom of the cup.
For watching death, and above all, after death; not death in battle, but death after battle, brings one to certain indifferences that are also a form of death.