Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.

We often experience more regret over the part we have left, than pleasure over the part we have preferred.

What is experience? A poor little hut constructed from the ruins of the palace of gold and marble called our illusions.

Science is for those who learn; poetry, for those who know.

What is love? two souls and one flesh; friendship? two bodies and one soul.

Let us pray! God is just, he tries us; God is pitiful, he will comfort us; let us pray!

God is a shower to the heart burned up with grief; God is a sun to the face deluged with tears.