Love is not about property, diamonds and gifts. It is about sharing your very self with the world around you.

Why do trees conceal the splendor of their roots?

Hands make the world each day.

This time is difficult. Wait for me. We will live it out vividly. Give me your small hand: we will rise and suffer, we will feel, we will rejoice. We are once more the pair who lived in bristling places, in harsh nests in the rock. This time is difficult. Wait for me with a basket, with a shovel, with your shoes and your clothes. Now we need each other, not only for the carnations' sake, not only to look for honey — we need our hands to wash with, to make fire.

If you no longer live, if you my beloved, my love, if you have died, all the leaves will fall in my breast, it will rain in my soul night and day, the snow will burn my heart, I shall walk with frost and fire and death and snow, my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping, but I shall live

A child who does not play is not a child, but the man who doesn't play has lost forever the child who lived in him and who he will miss terribly.

I'm not me but living matter fermenting and forming its own shapes in the fruitfulness of every day.